Armand vs Lestat
by Felice09
Summary: Armand and Lestat will never be bff's. But they could at least try to get along! When they don't, something like this happens. Just an ordinary day on Night Island.
1. Midsummer Nighttime

Louis shrunk back into the cushioned arm chair, hoping to God that he wouldn't get involved in another inane activity. Lestat had just entered the lavishly furnished lounge room of the infamous Night Island's private night time villa, with a glint in his eye that could be described as competitive or insane.

Armand's presence could do that to Lestat, just as Lestat's presence does to Armand. Although Night Villa was technically Armand's mansion, Lestat saw it as part of his retinue as the informal "Prince" of the vampiric hierarchy of royalty. So Lestat took it upon himself to assert his position as the leader of the coven of immortals that gather here on the Island. So far, most have humoured Lestat, or saw it as too much trouble to take issue with, but Armand was the one glitch in Lestat's plan to once again make him the centre of attention.

Armand and Lestat have always had a volatile relationship, which has most recently; with Lestat's decision to live in such close proximity to Armand, become particularly cattish and trivial. Louis was unfortunately present for every competitive triviality and "most exquisite scheme" for revenge, as Lestat liked to call them. Armand's response prior to Marius's visit to the island was to return each challenge with a similar prank or painful backlash, with (for Armand) hilarious repercussions that would delight the devilishly innocent looking vampire, and infuriate Lestat to escalate his schemes of vengeance to a higher level. Since Marius's arrival, the boy vampire had been surprisingly dulcet and affable, disregarding Lestat's harebrained plots, and causing Lestat to search for trouble again, trying to provoke fights with Armand in any way possible. Armand spent much of his time with Marius, and Lestat could scarce find an opening without Marius being present. Lestat decided that Marius is what is letting Armand gain the upper hand in their rivalries, so Lestat had devised a way to compete with Armand, under the watchful gaze of Marius.

It was a "most exquisite scheme" again. This made Louis more reluctant than ever to see it play out.

Lestat saw Louis buried in his book, Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew. Louis had read it before, Lestat was certain, but seeing Louis read it had given Lestat an idea.

"Môn Chere, have you seen Marius lately?" Louis looked reluctantly up from his book to see Lestat standing in front of Louis, hands on hips, with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Louis sighed "He went with Armand to the theatre… but they are probably back by now."

Lestat smiled and gave Louis an awkward hug in the chair. "Ah, Mon Chere, you are such a comfort to me." While Lestat was leaning close to Louis, he whispered into the reluctant vampire's ear, "You are first in my affections, remember that, and God Louis, try to have fun with it!"

Lestat drew away from the confused Louis, and skipped spritely out the living room (the living room for the dead).

In the master suite, Armand and Marius were engaged in some affections of their own. Having just returned from the Baz Luhrman rendition of A Midsummer Nights Dream, the Master and Fledgling had come in through the suite window, thrown their programmes and coats to the floor, and were currently intertwined on the plush four poster bed in the middle of the suite. Marius stroked his fingers through his fledgling's auburn hair, kissing up from the base of his neck to the smooth pale skin at the base of his chin. Armand leaned into his master's cool hand, loving how it felt in his glossy hair. He wrapped his own slender fingers in his master's hair and pressed his smaller hand up against his Master's cheek. Tiny sighs and whispers of love issued from both vampires. Marius gently leant further over Armand, pushing the brown eyed child back onto the red embroidered pillows. His reddish-brown hair spilt out over the pillow, and followed his Master's movements with his steady wide brown eyes.

Marius gazed indulgently at his submissive progeny. So heavenly were his features, that the summation of the evening, with his very own fairy child, seemed most fitting for Marius's own Midsummer Night.

"Your gaze melts the furnace of my heart, dear one" smiled Marius, quoting the play.

Armand laughed, "Oh Padrone, Lord what fools these mortals be! That was hilarious!"

Armand had found that particular line amusing, and had laughed too in the performance.

"Well, give us your hands if we be friends, my sweet." Marius joined the laughter. He gathered up his child's hand in his own, the broad adult fingers dwarfing Armand's fragile ones.

"We have no amends that need restoring, Padrone. " Marius leaned into his progeny's fervent gaze, trapping his fragile hands above his head.

"The course of true love never did run smooth, dear one." A wolf like smile crept over the ancient one's face. He leant closer, nuzzling into Armand's pale white neck, his fangs grazing over the now shivering skin.

"Mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, before, milk-white, now purple with love's wound." With every word, Marius's teeth scraped softly against his fledgling's throat. Armand felt a shiver, like a zing of electricity rushing down his spine. In a reflex action, he leaned forward, into the path of his Master's fangs. Drinking, drinking down the powerful preternatural blood. Master and fledgling both lost in the swoon. With a breathy whisper, Armand finished the sentence.

"And maidens call it love-in-idleness, Oh!"

All was silent in that moment then, excepting only tiny gasps and the smack of lips against skin and blood. The room was still, the earth was still. All was engaged in this moment. When both Vampires were at peace and in pleasure.

A sudden creak of the door and a long sliver of light interrupted the moment.

"Marius? Imp? How goes the performanc – oh!"

Lestat smiled a very deliberate smile. His eyes took in the two vampires entangled on the bed, both looking at him with sheepish and accusing glares. Armand was underneath his Master, his arms around his neck, as Marius was slightly raised from his fledgling, his cheeks ruddy, both of them looking at the disturbance. The disturbance that shouldn't be there to interrupt this moment. The disturbance that continued to prowl across the room, regardless of their activities.

"I am amazed and know not what to say. May I visit?"

"Ye-"Marius began.

"No!" Armand tersely spake.

Lestat's growing smile lingered on Armand's possessive sentiment. This was worth it already. He determinately settled into the cushioned armchair by the bed. The ruffled lovers awkwardly re-arranged themselves to a sitting position, flattening their tussled hair and sorts. Lestat noticed the red blemish on Armand's white collar.

"How was the show?"

"Fine. Now go away."

Marius sent a level look at his child. There was no excuse for poor manners.

"The show was lovely. Well worth a viewing, you would enjoy it, Lestat."

"You think?"

"Sure. Take Louis with you. You could make it an evening."

"Hmmm, Maybe I will." Lestat looked thoughtful. Armand was curled sitting on the bed, his arms around his knees, excluded from the conversation with a look. It was working. "And how did it compare to the other performances you've seen? You must have a lot to say, based on the past renditions you've seen."

Marius raised his eyebrows. A lengthy conversation was not what he would prefer to engage in at the moment, his fledgling's blood still warm in his cheeks.

"Perhaps now's not the best –"

"Oh nonsense Marius. We've got the time, have we not? Come, I would like to hear of it."

"Well, I suppose –"

"I have many questions. How did it compare to the Roman theatres? Do the modern technologies enhance or detract from the experience? Has it equaled other performances visually? I hear this Baz Luhrman is quite the visionary; the papers all praise the ingenuity of his works. I believe we have several of his films on discs in the movie room, the Romeo and Juliet of his with that lovely morsel, Claire Danes. Isn't she a darling? I saw her in a new film, just a few months ago wherein she was a fallen star, and she was just gorgeous. Quite befitting. Have you seen that film? With the flying galley ship? Marius?"

Marius sighed and sat forward on the edge of the bed. There was no shaking Lestat. And he did have a soft spot for Claire Danes.

"Yes, I saw the film. Of course Claire Danes is a darling little mortal. A great talent really. "From the middle of the bed, Armand rolled his eyes. Claire Danes again.

"She was so young in Romeo and Juliet. So strangely modernized. I think it worked on that level though. That these older concepts become somehow universal." Lestat responded eagerly.

"I wouldn't call then older concepts, more like timeless wouldn't you agree? That they have managed to persist through time like so." Marius settled into lengthy conversation mode.

"But do they persist because of their age? Does that somehow make them classics? And – Oh, come, come to the movie room, have a look at that clip. The one at the masquerade. When she meets him in that lovely white dress. Is it because of her actions or her as a person that we as the viewer empathise with her so?"

Marius followed Lestat, his arm linked in the flamboyant Lestat's. Armand moved to get off the bed and follow, when Lestat turned from the door, silhouetted in the frame of the hall light.

"Oh, Armand, you can stay here. I'm sure it wouldn't interest you. Now Marius, about that other film. She was not mortal in it, can you imagine –"

The door shut behind them, leaving Armand frozen in the dark, in the middle of the master's bed.

He blinked in the darkness, and then looked again towards the door and the sudden exit of his master. His wide eyed expression of surprise slowly inverted to follow his thought process. His brows slid together in confusion, then determination. Armand slid off the bed and over to the door. Trying the handle, Armand struggled. It was locked. He stood there fuming, and sent a mental message to Lestat.

_Lestat! What are you playing at?_

_Playing? Moi? Whatever could you possibly mean my charming little pest?_

_You Oxymoron! And of course you are playing. Locking doors and running away to hide is definitely playing. It's childish._

_Ooh, look who's talking, midget! _

_Blonde …grrr… IDIOT! _

_Tsk, tsk, Armand. We can't be choosy with our blonde's now, can we? I might just report your little outburst to the blonde standing next to me. We'll have a little blond rebellion, start a few fights, hmm? How do you like the sound of that?_

_You idiot, is all I say. And anyway, what the hell are you –_

_Uh uh uh! Armand, I thought that was all you were saying, and that made me happy. Why would you go and bring me down? Don't you bring me down today._

_Urgh, not this again…_

_No matter what you say, don't you bring me down – come on Armand, it's music, it's a song, I'm a musician, of course I would frequent it with my harmonious vocal chords._

_I'd rather you wouldn't. And what do you mean, "harmonious vocal chords"? You just killed yet another song. And why should I have to put up with your incessant wailing. It sounds like a cat being strangled, why put such things into my head?_

_Why me? I'm just poor pitiful pearl!_

_Stop that._

_Boo hoo hoo. Oh no, I don't want to work in a brothel, I'd much rather cater exclusively to that blonde artistic hottie. Because secretly I love the blonde artistic thing._

_Shut up Lestat. And anyway, what are you playing at, going off with Padrone like that?_

_I'm sorry? Who? I don't follow your weekly pet names for each other. _

_Urgh. I will kill you. _

_Now I haven't heard that in the past few months, it's really quite the turnaround. _

_You masochistic idiot. Why do you want to fight me. Get over yourself and realise that this is my house, he is my Marius, and while you are in my house you stop acting like an idiot and respect my property._

_Marius? Your property? Well I wonder what a learned individual such as himself would have to say about that._

_Why are you taking him anyway? Why did you interrupt us?_

_Mmhn, Iwantedtohearabouttheshow._

_Sigh, I saw the show too. Why couldn't I come along? Why did you lock the door? And more importantly – wait…_

…

_I know what this is about…_

…

_You absolute bastard! This isn't fair! This just isn't fair!!_

_Armand, as you are the baby of the family it is my sad duty to inform you that life isn't fair. _

_You are… You are a bitch. It's as simple as that. You are an absolute bitch._

_Ouch. That really hurts._

Armand stood fuming for a moment, staring at the door.

_I'm really mad at you, Lestat… but I don't want to break the door. _

_Why? Do it, do it now man!_

_No! Padrone made this door. There is a really nice picture on it, and it's all gilded._

_You sound like such an idiot right now._

_No, that's your job._

_Just bust that door!_

_No, and anyway. Padrone told me I'm not to break any more doors now._

_Any more? Well you don't have to bust it then, just, you know, bzzzzzz the door open._

_What?_

_Bzzzzzz it open. With your mind, silly!_

_Uh….. Bzzzzzzzz?_

_You know, it seems rather obvious in hindsight. Like, wouldn't that be the first thing you would do?_

_Shut up. I'm coming to the movie room._

_See you there!_

Lestat grinned wider to himself, his silent conversation hidden as he searched through the DVD collection while Marius rambled on about Claire Danes. Phase two of his plan was about to begin, and soon enough, once again Lestat will hold centre stage. He just had his revenge on Armand to partake and soon he would be prince again. He grabbed the Claire Danes collection with a flourish, and gleefully motioned Marius onto the leather theatre seats. Armand would be getting his comeuppance.

Very soon.

**First Chapter, Please Review. What would you like to see in this story?**

**And Marius's obsession with Claire Danes intensifies..... nnnnnnext Chapter!**


	2. The Mother of Claire Danes

**Thankyou for my ONE REVIEW Swetlana! You are a gem in my eyes, and to the unrepentant review lepers I merely glare. I need more reviews before I post the next chapter. It has been proofed out and is all set to be hilarious. My desire for ego petting, however, far outways my desire to be perky and punctual. Armand will love you for it. And the reveiws are a chance for reader input in the story. I would be more then happy to implement any ideas that you, the collective readers (or reader, oh woe is me) would like to see in the story. To Swetlana, Lestat's humiliation will be grand indeed. I thank you heartily. Enjoy and review S'il vous plait!**

Claire Danes was dancing on the flying Galley ship when Armand walked into the theatre room.

"You've been glowing more brightly every day and I think you know why."

"Of course I know why I'm glowing. I'm a star! And what the stars do best?"

"Well, certainly not the waltz."

Armand rolled his eyes as he took in the two blond vampires cuddled up on the couch, Lestat giggling like a loon, and his Master mouthing the words.

Armand joined them on the couch, sitting on the arm of the chair to Marius's left.

"Don't sit on the arm of the couch, Armand. You'll ruin it that way." Lestat chided him with a smirk. "Here, sit next to me, there's space here."

Armand glared daggers at Lestat. "No thanks, it's my couch. I'll sit where I want."

Marius sighed, not looking away from the screen. His reluctance for this conversation on couch etiquette came from his desire to remain focused on the film.

"Just sit on the couch, Amadeo. Don't be difficult in front of Claire Danes."

"But Master!"

"Now, Amadeo!"

A grumbling Armand made his way to the spot next to Lestat. Lestat grinned sweetly at the disgruntled teen vampire, and then turned away from him, his body facing towards the ancient blonde vampire, ignoring the expectant boy-child. As Marius watched a glowing Claire Danes waltz across the screen with the male protagonist, his fledgling sat with crossed arms on the couch, a full cushion space away from his master. Separated by Lestat and his Master's undying (or un-dead) love for Claire Danes, Armand was at odds with his current scenario. Lestat baited him down to the theatre room, Armand was sure of that. But for what reason? And why couldn't he sit on the arm of the chair? It was his chair!

"Isn't she darling, looking at him like that? So coy." Lestat mentioned to Marius.

"If I were him, 'Stat. If I were him." Marius replied shaking his head ruefully.

Armand stared closely at the screen.

"Oh, can you see the little white line around them, they've been edited in. That is poor quality for such a high budget film."

"Don't ruin it for me, Amadeo!"

"Yes Armand." Lestat said with a smile. "If you can't say anything nice, then sit down and shut up!"

"It would be nice, if they had edited correctly is all that I'm saying. I'm merely stating a fact. If you insist on being so rude you can -"

"Shhhhhh Shhhhhh Shhhhhh! Look! They're about to kiss!" Marius was humming with enthusiasm, whilst Lestat and Armand sat staring at one another, an eerily sinister smile on each of their faces.

Armand was smiling because he was thinking about how he would like to remove Lestat's smile. Preferably with some large scissors or a cheese grater.

Lestat was smiling because he was anticipating his plan's success.

Claire Danes was smiling because she was in love, and so was Marius.

The tense moment passed between the three vampires as Armand and Lestat settled back onto the couch, each centimetre between them a centimetre too close.

"So, how was the show Marius? Was it, uh, was it good for you? You know … all the aspects? Good, uh, good actors, good themes… good company? Yeah?" Lestat's increasingly high tone was wearing down on Armand's nerves. An oblivious Marius merely nodded and focused on the screen.

"Yes… quite good it was."

"So the fairy queen was well behaved then, was he?"

"Yes … quite good."

"And the little impish gremlin too?"

"Hmmm, hmmmm, sure."

"And the devil child beside you?"

"Hmmmm, yes, yes."

"And what about Armand?"

"What?" Marius reluctantly ripped his gaze from the screen to address Lestat.

Looking more closely at the scene, Marius could see Lestat sitting calmly, facing Marius as if in pleasant conversation with Armand's thin, strangling fingers encircling his neck.

"What are –"Marius began exclaiming. Armand quickly removed his fingers from Lestat's constricted neck and sat nonchalantly on the couch, legs crossed, his hand gently positioned on his knee, the very picture of cinematic enrapturement. All occurring in a fraction of a second. Marius was uncertain what he was seeing, the glare from Claire Dane's glow still dulling his vision.

"Hmmm, did you need something master?" Armand turned to speak to Marius, his face the picture of innocence.

"Air?" Lestat's snide remark seemed comical in its sarcasm.

"What just…?"

Before Marius could look further into the matter, Armand drew his attention back to the TV screen. "Oh, now what is that rogue doing to poor Claire Danes?"

"Rogue?!" Marius's head snapped back to face the screen, so Lestat was not the only sore necked individual.

Lestat sat back on the couch, rubbing his neck.

_Ow, can I say?_

_No, no you may not say anything ever._

_Why the neck? Always the neck?_

_I can't say it was pleasant for me either. I am loathe to touch your insidious neck. _

_Hey, what's wrong with the neck?_

_Everything is. Your mum is. _

_Why do you hate my mum?_

_Because, she's your mum._

_You don't even know what that means._

_Yes I do. It's an insult! You've just been insulted!_

_How do you know it is an insult? _

…_.._

_Well?_

_Because. I heard some humans say it, and they seemed insulted. _

_What exactly did they say?_

_Well, one human asked the other what they did on the weekend, and the other said "Your mum" or "Ya mum" or something like that. _

…_._

_And then they all went "ooooooh" and the human with the mum looked abashed. _

_Your mums abashed._

_My mums dead. What's your point?_

_Ugh, you little idiot._

_What? I got it right didn't I? You were insulted._

_No I wasn't_

_Yes you were_

_Not really._

_Not for just a little bit?_

_Nope_

_I think you were back there, just a little bit. _

…

_When I first said "your mum" and then in your head you were like, "oh…"_

_You cute little idiot._

_Urgh, Lestat calling me cute. I know you're lonely, but I have standards. _

_Puh-lease. Any Blonde will do. You love me really._

_You just keep telling yourself that, and be sure to tell your mum._

_Just LET IT GO already!_

_It got to you, admit it. _

_Shut up, alright. You know, you are really just sub-par tonight with the whole strangling episode. Didn't even hurt. Epic fail there. _

…_. But I got you on the your mum bit. Admit it. _

_No, we are not having this conversation. You don't even know what it means. It's like going round saying "lol" when the word has no meaning. It is a non-word! It does not exist!_

_It does not exist?_

_It has ceased to exist; it is an ex-word!_

_As in, "This is an ex-parrot!"? Lestat, you are so easy to read. I could see that joke coming from a mile off. _

_It's a classic joke! _

_You're a classic joke. Now you see, with the mum joke, you were just ambushed. You didn't even see it coming. You couldn't. That's the beauty of it. _

_THERE IS NO BEAUTY WITH THAT JOKE!_

_Nor with your mum, but hey._

_IT MEANS SEX! WITH MUMS! THAT'S WHAT IT MEANS!_

_URGH! Disgusting! You have a dirty mind, Lestat. I bet that's not even what it's about at all. _

_That is what it means. It is the only meaning for that joke. _

_Noooo, noooo! That's disgusting, why even make me think that Lestat? Your own mother! You disgust me. You're disgusting_

_Alright then, it's a bet. That is what it means. _

_That is so not what it means. How could an entire generation find that funny if that's what it means?_

_How much would you be willing to bet? Would you bet Marius?_

_No! That's like asking if you would bet Louis._

_No, I can't bet Louis. Louis doesn't like me gambling. _

_So what's the deal with Marius then? You just needed an outlet for your Claire Danes-ness? _

_What? Like you needed an outlet for your strangling urges. _

_Well, I do feel much better now that that's done, so thanks for that. _

_Oh, well by all means, you're welcome. To tell the truth, I can't stand the girl._

_*Shock* Claire Danes? Why?_

_Well, you can't tell me you like her, the way you are so intently watching the film._

During Armand's stay in the theatre room he sat mostly like a bored school boy, leaning messily on the arm of the couch, his slender fingers supporting his head, squishing his cheek adorably. Lestat made the effort to look interested, nudging Marius at the right times, and now sat forward in the chair, his elbows leaning on his knees as he propped his head up towards the screen. During their silent conversation, only the briefest rolling of eyes, exchanges of eye contact and shifts in expressions would give the conversation away.

_It's not that I don't like her. I appreciate her as an actress, and I__ suppose Marius is rubbing off on me a bit._

_Urgh! _

_But really, it's just the obsession that bothers me. I would watch it once, but the repetition is kind of tiring. I'm not really into it, so I'm not that passionate about it. _

_Jealous of Claire Danes then?_

_No, I'm not jealous of Claire Danes. _

_Well, you should be jealous of me instead!_

_You idiot. I won't dignify that assumption with a response. _

_You just did. People say that, and then they do it any way. Hypocrites!_

_You're the hypocrite. Attacking every turn of phrase, when you are just trying to justify the kind of mind that thinks mums are for sexual referencing. _

_Yeah, well Marius will be sexual referencing with me in a minute. With you sitting outside the door, crying like a spoilt kid. Because your "master" wants someone else. _

_Keep dreaming, 'stat. Marius only wants me. _

_Is that so? Or have you noticed him entranced with other blondes as of late._

_He doesn't want you Lestat!_

_Me, or… CLAIRE DANES!_

_Don't be an idiot Lestat. It doesn't suit you. Oh, wait! It does!_

_Hahahahahahah. Marius doesn't want you, Marius doesn't want you!_

_Of course he does. Don't delude yourself. _

_He went with me didn't he? And he stops you from killing me in front of him. Have you ever wondered why? _

_He only wants' what's best for me. That's what he said. _

_He is the reason nothing interesting has happened here. He is why we've stopped fighting, and why you've been so fricking passive all the time! _

_This is what it's about. __Well, good luck with that. Passive, eh?_

_But if I keep Marius with me, you won't stand a chance. _

_And where is the reason behind that, eh? Any logic or dictum that give you reason to think this. Or is it just the same old rubbish?_

_Just you watch. _

The film was coming to an end, and the credits began rolling. Armand got out of his seat slowly.

_No, just YOU watch._

"Ohhhh, What a brilliant film. Truly magical. What an excellent performer that girl is." Marius exclaimed with a stretch. Lestat was watching Armand and so said nothing.

"Mmmm. Very good. Padrone?" Armand walked over to Marius's arm of the couch and bent forward, leaning his arms on the cushions.

"Mmmm, yes my sweet?" Marius, filled with the happiness Claire Danes brought him, saw the room in an overwhelmingly positive light. He saw his fledgling as a warm, sleepy angel. His brown eyes drawing Marius in, filling him with a new kind of happiness. Ensuring a future happiness that night. The positivity he felt was focused on Armand's lips as they formed each word, the tilt of his neck as he asked his question, the placing of auburn hair that cascaded onto his tiny shoulders.

"I'm going back to the room now. Do you need anything, or…?"

"Mmmm, I may join you momentarily. I'll just pack up here."

"What?" Lestat panicked. "Are you leaving now?

"Oh, Lestat. You don't mind do you? It's just getting rather late…" (Or was it rather early?)

"But we still have the special features." Lestat vainly tried to win back the conversation.

"Oh, I don't mind." Armand looked around vaguely. "I can do something else. I'll be there if you need me. Or not, you know."

He then smiled a beautiful smile at his blonde master. He gazed adoringly at his accommodating fledgling with a rivalling smile of beauty. Armand leaned forward and kissed Marius gently and deeply on his soft lips. Marius kissed his progeny back enthusiastically, tasting a teasing trickle of blood on Armand's talented tongue. Armand drew away slowly and sighed.

He walked to the door, his master's eyes glued to him more fervently than they had been to Claire Danes for the past hour and a half.

Turning at the door, his svelte frame illuminated by the light of the corridor and the arc of the door, Armand looked again at his master.

"Call me if you need me ok?"

Armand slid out the door, and closed it. Darkening the theatre room once more.

Marius moved to get out of his chair.

"Wait wait wait wait wait wait waaaaaaaaaaaait!" Lestat jumped up to grab Marius's arm.

"Don't leave yet! We still have the deleted scenes to watch!"

"Later."

"Season one of My So-Called life?"

"Later."

"Claire Danes : Inside the actor's studio?"

Marius paused in his escape.

"Yeeeah? You want to watch inside the actor's studio? Full clip show and everything?"

"But Amadeo's waiting…"

"You just heard him, he's fine with it. Let him go. He sounded busy anyway."

"Maybe…"

"He'll be there tomorrow night, don't worry about that. Inside the actor's studio is only on now, it'll get deleted in the morning."

"Really?! Why?" Marius was genuinely puzzled. He spent much more time reading then the other vampires.

"The box does that at the end of each month. It cleans up after itself that way. I recorded this just for you. Can we watch it?"

Marius was torn. The dual temptations evident in his face. Lestat capitalized on this indecision.

"Please?"

Marius sighed, and then gleefully stifled a smile. He settled back down onto the couch.

"Oh, alright then."

"Excellent!" Lestat crowed. "Then afterwards Armand will be waiting, so it is all alright. Right?"

After a slight hesitation Marius agreed. "Right!" his wide grin made him appear like an excited child before a Christmas tree piled with presents. To have both Claire Danes and the promise of his fledgling's love. It was Christmas in his mind.

Lestat enthusiastically programmed in the interview. Eager that he could separate Marius from Armand for two more hours. And then as much delay as possible before dawn.

In the master suite, Armand sat eyes closed on the bed, watching Lestat's ploy through his head. His eyes opened angrily. Fine then, he thought. If Lestat wants Marius all to himself, then good luck to him. He would not be jealous of Lestat, and he definitely would not be jealous of Claire Danes. Perhaps Lestat should spend some time in the clammy grip of jealousy for a while, to see how he likes it. It might do Marius some good too. Armand plotted his activity in the living room. He would read a book. Or watch the news. That would be good. And in good company. But first, he wanted some paint bombs. A quick trip to the mansion's studio would do that. Lots and lots of paint bombs. Lestat can just see how many "want" him when he woke up tomorrow night.

Armand hurried to the studio to complete his task. Vengeance is such sweet satisfaction. And he had to hurry. It would be rude to keep Louis waiting.

And he so was not jealous of Claire Danes.

**All the Claire Danes references are apparantely accurate, although I don't know if she has an inside the actors studio session. Did you get the comedy reference? _"'E's not pinin'! 'E's passed on! This parrot is no more! He has ceased to be! 'E's expired and gone to meet 'is maker! 'E's a stiff! Bereft of life, 'e rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed 'im to the perch 'e'd be pushing up the daisies! 'Is metabolic processes are now 'istory! 'E's off the twig! 'E's kicked the bucket, 'e's shuffled off 'is mortal coil, run down the curtain and joined the bleedin' choir invisibile!! THIS IS AN EX-PARROT!!"_**

**Classic. Reviews please, and have a pleasant tomorrow! **


	3. Not the Memoirs!

**Checking back in! I can never keep a grudge, I could barely hold out on the next chapter for more than a few days. But other readers review this time! Give poor Swetlana a break. I gave you a reward, if you'll notice it my dear. Enjoy! **

In the living room at 7 pm the next day, Louis was reading the complete works of Neil Gaiman when he heard the first scream. Armand, who sat in the lounge opposite Louis looked up from his laptop then relaxed further into the lounge, typing again to his pen pal in the Netherlands.

"Was that Lestat screaming?" Louis looked to Armand for the answer. For clarification that he really did just hear his strong, all powerful vampire Lestat screech like a little girl.

"Oh, I don't know. Do you think he saw a mouse?" Armand replied lazily, not looking up from his computer.

"No. Lestat's not scared of mice. Actually, I think he rather likes them."

"Oh, that's good. I know what to get him for Christmas then."

A calamitous roar echoed from the other side of the mansion. Louis noticed the water in the vase next to him ripple and shake with the smash.

"I don't think he saw a mouse. I think something else has happened to him."

Armand looked up from the screen.

"Really? Are you going to check then? Or do you want to wait until he calms down a bit?"

Louis could hear loud crashing noises, more yelling, and the sound of splintering wood.

"I think it can wait for a while."

Louis flinched with each smash and smatter of glass. Lestat made several loud warbling cries. The sound of a door crashing down was prominent.

Marius walked sleepily into the living room from the adjoining door to the left. As he yawned sleepily and stood near Armand's lounge, he looked around.

"Morning all. Is Lestat up then?"

Armand tilted his head back to look at his tall bed ruffled master.

"He seems to be. Did you have a good night last night Master?"

Marius stretched his arms up to the ceiling. Smiling and yawning simultaneously, he replied.

"Yes, we watched Inside the Actors studio, and scanned through some screen shots. I went to bed a bit before dawn. Lestat fell asleep in the theatre room, so I just left him there."

Armand stretched his arms up to touch his master's hand.

"Mmmm, fair enough. Do you want to go to the mainland tonight? Santino invited us to see his new estate."

Marius gave his child's hand a squeeze. Looked at him, and then away with a slight sneer on his face.

"Perhaps not tonight, dear one. He'll survive without our company for now."

Armand shrugged, and then looked back to his laptop, calmly ignoring the thunderous footsteps tromping down the hall.

With a loud crash, Lestat burst in through the living room doors covered head to toe in blue paint.

**Lestat's Point of View**

Oh, God. I woke up on the couches in the theatre room in a very uncomfortable position. It seems I slept slightly skewy, half on the arm of the couch, a quarter on the cushions, and the other quarter on the floor. I don't know what so many quarters of me were doing in all these different positions. It seems to me that each of my minds of my own have a mind of their own.

Maybe my brain is just fried into a dull mush because I spent all fricking night watching Claire Danes talk about her characters, and her first on screen kiss. Do you know she never had a real first kiss? Her first one was in that weird pre-teen drama. My story should be called "My So-Called Life" because at least I've had a little experience with both to be able to tell them apart. Life and Death that is. And heaven and Hell too, so that just makes me special.

I had hoped Marius would have helped me out a bit though. Carried me off to bed and tucked me in blah blah blah. But no! I suppose he mightn't have guessed that I was faking my circumstantial slumber; he does get remarkably preoccupied when he takes Claire Danes in large doses. I am being very cautious with my trump card; that Claire Danes will be in Miami for the premier of The Flock next week. If Marius hears about that at the wrong time, he'll ruin it completely and take Armand to it, or go that one creepy step further and abduct the girl.

I pity her for her fame. Not that I don't appreciate a good bit of fame. I have been best friends with the fame from time to time. Me and Fame, best buddies. I just would find it weird if obsesso's like Marius stalked me like he does. My neck is cramping something fierce. Unusual sleeping positions and the odd strangling do that to it. Although it was funny to get Armand that mad, his tiny fingers do an awful lot of damage. I said it didn't hurt. Oh how I lied!

Urgh, I just saw my reflection in the plasma screen. I look terrible. I have creases on my face, and my hair is a veritable bird's nest. And my clothes are all rumpled too. Now that's no good. If Louis saw me like this, what would he say?

Probably nothing, he doesn't care about little things like that, which is good, on occasion. Still, it'd be nice if he noticed more often. Armand noticed the other day. I was walking along, and I was wearing a shirt that had a hole in it, (an unintentional hole, there is a difference) it was a good shirt, and I did notice the hole, I just didn't think it would bother Louis, so I wore it anyway. I walked past Armand, and it's like those big brown x-ray eyes of his just zoned in on the hole, and he said to me; "Lestat, did someone burn a hole in your shirt? Who did it? I want to send them flowers!"

That little tramp! He is one to talk; he lived in a cemetery for about 200 years! It is good that he noticed though. I like to be noticed. And it was good to be fighting too. I miss that. Now he's all sweet and "Oh, Marius, I would never shred Lestat's seventh set of memoirs. I know how much they mean to him, and I haven't a clue who did it!" And Marius believes him. I think he is going soft, spending so much time in the mansion. When he was alone, he was stoic, serious and depressed, which wasn't very fun for him, but it certainly made a lovely image. Now that he has Armand near him always, and Pandora not far away, the company of the entire coven has made him sort of cheerful and snug. I think that is what is wrong with this century. Everything gets done for you, straight away! So that time when you would have had to be patiently waiting or occupying your time is gone, and now is just filled with slothful time wasting. Not that I can talk. I could have stumbled off to my room last night; instead I stayed in the theatre room to practice my contortionism.

Ohhhh, I like that painting on the wall there. New ones just keep appearing. I think it's one of Marius's or possibly Armand's. They have been painting more, which is good I suppose. They are so talented. This is a reproduction of Millais' Ophelia. I can see all the minute details in it, the sharp edge of the nettles and thorns by the lake. I can see each thread in the embroidery on her dress, and it all looks wet, whilst remaining crisp and colorful. It's nice. Armand is quite beautiful when he paints. Why am I complimenting that imp's work? I must have slept on my head.

-

At this point Lestat walked into his bedroom and went straight for the mirror in his bathroom. After frantically smoothing his hair he reached to the "hair equipment" cupboard pulled the handle and was engulfed in a cloud of blue paint. After spluttering and spitting out wads of paint from his mouth, he reached around into the towel drawer and yet another paint bomb exploded onto his body.

"What the-?" Lestat blinked paint from his eyes. He could hear a faint beeping. Almost a ticking sound.

"Oh no."

The entire room was engulfed in blue paint. The little timer, activated when the first bomb blew manually, released all the other devices, little puffs of paint wisping through every nook and cranny, every cupboard and crouch space.

Lestat stood in the middle of the room covered head to toe in blue paint. Shocked, he looked around once, twice, his bathroom in absolute disarray. Then with a slow turn, he looked out into his bedroom.

The entire room was covered, wall to wall with blue paint. The red bedspread, now a garish purple. The gold upholstery on Lestat's custom furniture was now mingled with hues of azure, blurring together to create impressionistic greens and browns. Lestat let out a low moan.

"Oh, no."

A moment of shattered silence broke with a tiny bleeping noise. Lestat concentrated, listening carefully. Another bomb? But what could be painted that wasn't already covered in the hideous blue stain?

He conducted a quick checklist in his head. It wasn't his clothes; his wardrobe just exhaled the blue slime. His photos and awards on the wall were dripping the liquid. And his memoirs were in a safe…

SAFE!

The bleeping intensified in pace. Lestat scrambled for his safe, the safe that he ensured was air tight, water tight, bullet proof, fire proof and damage proof. The safe that contained the very essence of his life to this day. The safe that was ticking like a time bomb. He had hoped that the safe's resistant capabilities would have made it Armand proof.

As he slammed the code into the front, his panic intensifying, the beeping reached a climax.

Lestat swung the safe door open and the beeping stopped. Inside the safe lay all his manuscripts, pristinely preserved as they were when he placed them there. And no ominous beeping. Lestat let out a deep sigh that was punctuated by the puff of blue smoke that hit him in the face.

Lestat blinked for a bit, each flicker of sight showing him his defiled blue manuscripts, now unredeemable, the cost of his affinity for typewriters.

Unsurprisingly, this was when the screaming started.

-

With a loud crash, Lestat burst in through the living room doors covered head to toe in blue paint.

Louis looked startled. His lover was looking like the disheveled ex-member of the blue man group.

Marius looked bemused. This explained the screaming. He pictured it was Lestat upon reaching a mirror. He edged closer to his fledgling, sensing the imminent disaster.

Armand took one look at the newly cerulean Lestat and burst out into peals of childlike laughter.

The room was still excepting the boy vampire's rollicking fit of hilarity. Marius looked at his child with appreciative eyes. It did his old heart good to see him laughing like that.

Louis looked at Armand laughing as well. Uncertain if he could join in, laughing nervously, or would that upset the situation. Looking at Lestat it couldn't get much worse.

Have you ever seen a bull fight on television? There comes a part when both the bull and the matador pause in their circling and stampeding and stare each other down. Right before the final push, when both opponent's are panting with exertion and a killing rage. Lestat was, right about now, the bull and the matador combined.

In between giggles, Armand raised a slender finger and pointed to Lestat's shaking frame.

"L-l-heh heh heh – Lestat. Haha, you, er, you, er, you got a little something there, er, on, on your… FACE! Hahahahahah-"

As Armand broke down into uncontrollable laughter, the summation of the evening's events proved motivation enough for Lestat to snap.

With a sudden ferocity and vicious vigor, Lestat lunged, hands and teeth bared, to attack Armand.

**OoOoOoOoO! Suspense Suspense Suspense! And I will leave you on a cliff hanger there, as that is what writers are apt to do when they feel like annoying the reader. Heheheheh, I kid, I kid! Next chappy is quite the good one too. And I may post a side-along fic about the coven which I have been meaning to write for some time. Shakespeare has many a good word that I would put into their mouths. _The devil hath power to assume a pleasing shape_, and there are none as pleasing as Anne Rice's heavenly family. Tune in soon for more goodly goodness! **


	4. According to Plan

Armand saw this coming. How could he not have? One does not completely destroy another's possessions in a flurry of blue paint if one does not expect violent ramifications. He wouldn't really laugh like this if not to provoke some sort of reaction in Lestat, although it was hilarious to see the ridiculous fool covered head to toe in the blue stain. He had to keep this up so Marius could see his completely passive reaction to Lestat's random act of violence. Completely passive…

Lestat lunged fiercely at the giggling vampire, his hands contorted into claws. Wild with rage, he scratched Armand across the face and grabbed onto his shoulders with a vice-like grip. When the boy vampire wouldn't fight back even though Lestat was on top of him, in the advantageous position, Lestat shook him fiercely. Armand laughed still, while Marius and Louis hovered uncertainly, waiting to break up the fight.

"YOU DID THIS! You did this!!!" Lestat yelled as he shook Armand by the shoulders. Armand's head snapped back, and rolled forwards on his shoulders. Still he giggled and whispered.

"You're blue, ha ha ha, _BLUE_!"

"You little monster! You did this! My room, my clothes, my memoirs, my _hair_! It was you!"

"Ha ha, what are you, ha ha, talking about, 'Stat? Heh heh, blue!"

"Rrrr, I'll find proof, I'll show that it was you. You…you! And then I'll kill you!"

Armand burst out laughing even harder when Lestat announced his rage so. Marius and Louis saw the moment as one to intervene.

"Lestat, calm down." Marius said commandingly.

"You don't want to get blue all over the couch, 'Stat." Louis added.

"It was him, don't you see? He did it! Last night." Lestat stated vehemently.

"But he couldn't have last night, Lestat." Louis told him soothingly. "He was with me right up til the dawn."

"What?" Lestat turned his head towards his dark haired fledgling, his fingers still wrapped around Armand's throat, strangling him.

"It's true." Armand whispered through his constricted windpipe. "I went straight to the living room from the theatre room. I stayed with Louis all night. He was wonderful company."

Lestat looked sharply into Armand's mischievous twinkling eyes. He shut his eyes for several seconds, analyzing if his anger quotient was full to burst, or if he could handle this most recent insult. Three seconds. Nope.

"I'll KILL YOU!" Lestat yelled as Armand laughed it up, his windpipe now free as Lestat lunged, fangs beared for the small vampire's throat.

When his fangs sunk into Armand's milky neck the amused expression on his face froze. His eyes now held fear and pain, as his small face twisted into the image of shock.

Marius jumped into action then, snapping Lestat off his injured progeny and slamming him into the living room wall. Holding him against the wall by his throat he growled fiercely at the blue-blonde attacker.

Louis jumped up, rushing to Lestat's aid, trying to calm Marius down.

"Marius! Marius, calm down! Its ok, I've got him. Take Armand out of here."

Armand sat curled up on the couch, cradling his mangled throat in his delicate fingers, coughing slightly. Blood droplets littered the white upholstery of the leather lounge. His laptop lay smashed on the floor, the first casualty of Lestat's blue rage.

Marius took several deep breaths and relinquished Lestat over to Louis, who held steadily onto Lestat's heaving torso, restraining him in a more subdued manner than Marius's dramatic action.

The ancient vampire turned quickly to his bloodied child on the couch. He would heal soon, although such a ravaging would undoubtedly hurt for the night. He gathered him up in his arms and carried him swiftly out of the room, cradled in his strong arms while Armand gently shook, the impact of the attack obviously rattled him.

Louis softly ushered Lestat out if the room, uttering calming phrases and pulling Lestat away from the living room, the only room that was in such close proximity to Armand's new location, Marius's chamber.

He led him into Lestat's room, the furthest from the auburn child's room; it was initially a layout planning success. Under Louis calming influence Lestat was slowly winding down.

But when they reached Lestat's room, a room that Louis was unaware had undergone some serious decorating changes in the past hour, Lestat saw once more the extensive damage of his property and let out a howl of rage.

As Louis struggled to contain his property-bereaved lover, in the master suite, Marius was laying his wounded fledgling onto the large bed in the middle of the room. Armand was still looking down; the pain of his torn throat seemed a more present distraction. Marius looked sympathetically at the torn bleeding skin. The wound was still open due to its recentness. Armand, Marius realized, was looking away so to not show his pain to Marius. With a sad expression, Marius gently placed his hands on his child's face and turned it to his direction. He saw now what Armand had been hiding from him before. The young-limbed vampire was hiding his eyes, now brimming with the soft red tears that betrayed his pain. Marius's heart melted. He abandoned all plans to interrogate his child about the blue paint fiasco, and embraced him, kissing away his tears.

Now Armand wasn't a stranger to physical pain. He had experienced far worse than a lashing to the throat in his long lifetime. But he knew it was imperative to act hurt by Lestat's pre-orchestrated attack in order to successfully complete his plan. When he sat on the couch curled up into a ball, cradling his throat in his hands, as all would see it, he was actually scratching open the minute wound Lestat's fangs had left. Widening it, so his master would have something to coo over when he comforted him. He spent much of the time then, from the living room to the bedroom, looking down so he could successfully hide his face as he scrunched up his eyes, forcing the tears to form, thinking of dead kittens and other saddening things.

His completely passive front to Lestat's outburst wasn't as passive as it probably should have been, Armand having used the opportunity of Lestat's attack to knee him in the groin. No one seemed to have noticed, so Armand shrugged it off as one of the perks of victory.

The other perk of this victory he was experiencing now. As his master kissed the throbbing skin of his healing neck, planting the blood kisses onto the scraped skin, both taking and giving the powerful ancient blood that Armand craved. How could this have worked more perfectly, Armand thought to himself, as his master kissed along his collarbone, lapping up the spilt blood. Lestat was humiliated in both his blueness and his rudeness. His departure from civility with his unprovoked attack on the innocent-until-proven-guilty Armand placed him in the eyes of scorn from the coven; Louis would be exasperated by Lestat's bad behavior and would soon be looking for an escape from his company. If and when Lestat began losing Louis again, that would humiliate him further, as his bond with Louis, while tenuous, was one of the few things he cherished these days. Not only would this free Louis up to be receptive to Armand's attention, it would serve the dual purpose of inciting jealousy in Marius, who would then, hopefully, begin doting on Armand even further than before. This obsession with Claire Danes, Armand figured, should be channeled to more productive ventures, such as adoring me. And if the plan with Louis failed, he had the extreme back up of a visit to Santino, which Armand was loathe to do, but knew it would irritate Marius even more than it would disturb Armand.

It was a well thought out plan. And, Armand added to his list of achievements, it gives me a chance to show off my brilliant acting skills.

All other thoughts of mental brilliance were cut off then, when his master lowered into his mouth the ambrosial blood kiss that left everything but the swoon.

In Lestat's room, Louis stood with one hand on his hip and the other to his forehead. Shaking his head, Louis watched as Lestat groveled on the ground before his desecrated safe, sobbing to himself.

"All my memoirs. All of them! Gone! It was him, Louis."

"It can't have been Armand, Lestat. He was in the living room all night long. I saw him leave the theatre room. He came out just as I was walking by to check on you. You were unusually quiet last night."

"That's because I was stuck in fricking Claire Danes world, humoring the crazy old roman!"

"Well, if you didn't want to watch it I'm sure Marius would have understood. Oh, wait; is this part of the shenanigan you were planning earlier? Is this why things have gone all crazy? Lestat!"

"It was working! It was going great until that little imp became so devious!"

"And what part of your brilliant plan involved you losing your room to blue paint? How did the room get this blue, anyway? It must have taken hours for one to paint all this."

"Paint bombs." Lestat explained in a deadpan voice to his fledgling. "He planted paint bombs and set them to a timer."

Louis paused, taking that in. he then said, "But I don't smell him in here. Anywhere in here."

"Well, that's part of his plan too. Obviously because his scent is already in the room it would be insubstantial evidence to say that is why he did it."

"His scent wasn't in the room. It was never in the room. He never came in here, remember?"

Lestat looked sheepishly away from his fledgling. Louis could hear him mumbling incoherently.

"He was never in here, right?"

"Well, with that turn of phrase, it's hard to say if one of us was never here."

"Lestat," Louis sighed and took a refreshing breath of acrylic into his lungs. He turned to Lestat, smiling warmly. "So he was in your room. That's of no consequence, right? Were you doing anything in particular which lead to him being in your room?"

"Well, I was…"

"Yes?"

"I was…"

"Yes? You were –"

"I was showing him my safe."

Louis groaned. He clapped his hand to his forehead while Lestat attempted to defend his actions.

"Only for a few seconds! I had a team of human technicians in here installing the thing. It's his house! I had to show him it. I could have been planting nuclear bombs for all he would have known!"

"And now he knows and your room is blue! Was he there when you engineered the locks? Or perhaps when you coded in the passwords!"

"Hey, don't take that tone with me! I didn't know he would blue bomb the place."

"You hate each other with a passion! How could you not know!?"

"Look, we were on good terms then. He took an interest, I shared in mine. I was… you know, rebuilding bridges! Mending fences, that sort of thing!"

"How could you even rebuild that fence? Whenever you two are together, it's like the fence splinters every which way and blinds everyone. The only time you two get along is when Marius and I leave you by yourself to your own defenses. Because then you're both lonely, and you confide in each other, and then three weeks later, something like this happens!"

Lestat stood abruptly to his feet, his chin jutting stubbornly out.

"Well, Monsieur high-and-mighty Pointe du Lac! I can't see why you'd be adverse to being on good terms with Armand. You seemed to get along with him just fine last night. Hamming it up like old buddies, you were."

"You don't know that, 'Stat. Don't speak like you know these things."

Lestat stood taller, making every attempt to look dignified in blue paint.

"I know what I know."

"I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak."

"I know… I know that you get jealous when you come back from your little trips and see Armand and I together, that you try to break us up! And that's why we fight!"

Louis stood dumbstruck.

"This is… this is what you think? That I break you up? You honestly don't think past the fact that, oh, I don't know, maybe this is _your_ fault?"

The two feuding lovers were interrupted by a tiny but clear knock on the door. They turned to look as the door swung open to reveal Armand standing hand upraised, having been escorted to the room by his fledgling Daniel, who stood either as security for the tiny painter, or as guard, to ensure his deliverance on the task set.

Lestat gathered from Daniel's open and more easily read mind that Marius felt terrible for attacking Lestat, but was still mad and didn't want to see him. Daniel had snatched Armand very tactfully from Marius's presence and frog-marched him to Lestat's room to apologize, as Daniel had found the email that Armand sent to the manor's technicians, allocating to them the planting of paint bombs. Under the impression that they were contributing to some sort of practical joke, the technicians went a little overboard, and used the special timer system used in the safe on the rest of the bombs. Armand had sent the email the night of the Claire Danes marathon, whilst typing on his laptop in the living room with Louis.

Standing by the door, Armand looked tense, like he would run away any second. It probably wasn't the thought of a round 2 with Lestat that had him set to bolt. More likely the thought of apologizing to him.

"Bad time?" he queried with a smirk. "Right then, Daniel, I don't think we're needed here -"

His sentence was silenced by a look from his fledgling. Lestat, less angry at Armand now, having recalled and defended to Louis the times that they had, jumped over to Armand and theatrically hugged him.

"Oh, Armand! You are needed! You're such a good friend to me. Here, listen to this, Louis' being mean to me –"

"Get off me, you blue moron!" With slapstick speed, Armand prized Lestat's blue fingers from his thin body and pushed him away with vampiric speed. Lestat looked on at Armand with puppy-dog eyes.

"But, Armand… we had such good talks. We had such good times. Remember our times?"

Armand remembered the times. He especially remembered last time when he and Lestat were left alone together.

_They stayed up chatting about their past's and their human lives. Armand felt really safe and relieved, like he and Lestat had connected on a sincere and emotional level. He was fully contented when Marius and Louis returned, going to sleep in his coffin, which he normally wouldn't do due to the nightmares he would have, sleeping instead in the four poster bed in Marius's room. However, when Armand woke in the morning he felt stiflingly restricted. He couldn't move, he opened his eyes and he couldn't see, all he saw was brown. The smell of dank, damp dirt. Dirt. It was dirt. He was surrounded by dirt. Franticly, Armand clawed his way to the surface, the panic bubbling in his throat. His panic was centered in his throat, the thought of the lack of air, and the lack of food. Dying of thirst, withering from the hunger, the fear built in him, fueled by the memories of his days in the monastery, fresh in his mind from his conversations with Lestat. He burst up onto the surface, his face and hair streaked with mud, gasping for air with deep shuddering breaths, shivering in fear and shock. Propped up onto the surface of the hole by his elbows, Armand gasped and shuddered as the red tears ran down his cheeks. He heard the crunch of a shovel, and sputtering he turned to see. Lestat stood, leaning on the handle of the shovel, smiling down at the muddied boy-child._

"_Still alive, Brother Andrei?"_

_Armand stared dumbstruck for several seconds. The tears still wet on his face. Several seconds of silence. _

_He threw the first punches, effectively ending their brief period of friendship. _

Armand's eyes were watering red. His eyebrows knitted together and his lower lip jutted out.

"I remember. I remember you pushing me down a hole and burying me alive! That wasn't a joke, ok? That wasn't funny! I came in here to apologize, and you bring that up again?!"

Lestat flared up, remembering once again that he was blue, and that Armand had desecrated his safe, and that he also kneed him in the groin.

"Apologize? Well, you should apologize! You destroyed my safe! You inked out all my personal possessions! You covered me in blue acrylic, for god's sake! You're the devil child, and you hit me!"

"I should apologize? I should hit you again is what I should do! Did I get an apology? Did I receive any sort of request for forgiveness, or admission of guilt when you just laughed it up? I was distraught!"

"Aww, but then your Master comforted you and made it all better, did he? How's your neck? Healed much?"

Armand disappeared and reappeared before Lestat's expensive (and now blue, but otherwise undamaged) safe, and placing one hand on the handle of the safe door. He cocked his head in Lestat's direction, and with a sinister sneer, said;

"How's your safe?" He ripped the door off its hinges and sent it flying into Lestat's extravagant bathroom where it embedded itself in the marble bathtub. "Fixed much?"

"My safe!!" Lestat howled.

Louis groaned, and Daniel as well, as he rushed across the room to secure Armand, as Louis did for Lestat, before the two could jump on one another and tear each other to shreds. Daniel was pulling Armand out the door while Louis tugged Lestat towards the window. The shouting of the two irate vampires echoed down the halls, shattering light bulbs.

"I hope you like blue, Lestat. That paint is permanent!"

"Oh, close it up, Andrei! I'd be more than happy to dig you another hole!"

With his head around the door, Armand shouted his final curse to Lestat.

"You know, I'd say 'go to hell' but you're not WELCOME THERE!!"

The door slammed shut. Lestat screeched like a kettle.

"Urgh, that little brat! We should break out the shovels, I say. Take him down Louis!"

To the left of Lestat, Louis stood shaking his head, one hand to his brow.

"Oh, what now?" Lestat moaned.

"You! That's what's now! I'm not happy with you!"

"Whatever for?" Lestat asked. Louis threw his hands up in the air.

"He came to apologize! And you fought him again!"

"Hey, I didn't do anything! He brought it up."

"But you buried him alive! That's horrible! After all he's been through. And you never told me!"

"Well, you'd act like this, wouldn't you?"

"No wonder he bombed your room. You brought this on yourself."

"Louis, don't be like that. You said so yourself. He just hates me. It's not anything I've done. That whole burying thing was months ago!"

"You wouldn't put that in your memoirs would you? Nothing to make you look bad."

"It could very well be in page four of my memoirs. But you wouldn't know now would you? Because he-destroyed-them-all!"

"You know what?" Louis drew himself up tall, his patience wearing short. "I've had enough. This is ridiculous. Handle this on your own; I want nothing to do with this. I'm going to read with David."

"Louis. Louis! What are – Where are you going Louis?" Lestat stood up, calling out to the raven haired vampire as he exited the blue room via the window and marched away through the garden.

"Away!"

Lestat began laughing. "You're – You're not going away Louis. Fine then. Fine. Read. I'll be fine. I'll be cleaning. That'll be loads of fun!"

Louis stalked off into the night, not looking back, over his shoulder as Orpheus was want to in the much read tales of Greek lore. Lestat watched his silhouette fade into the night, standing stubbornly at the window, refusing to chase after him just yet.

Another who watched Louis leave was the auburn haired vampire Armand, standing on the living room balcony. He smiled to himself. This was working perfectly. Louis had scorned Lestat, Marius was out hunting, and Daniel, the most excellent and entrepreneurial fledgling, had orchestrated the "sorry scheme" to not only drive the wedge between Louis and Lestat, but to clear Armand of guilt in the eyes of the coven. He stroked his throat absent mindedly. He had not expected Lestat to drink from him. On several occasions he had taken from Lestat, all of those times without his spoken consent. Armand had felt it appropriate on those occasions. He was surprised now that instead of just beating him Lestat had drank from him. He touched his throat again. The remembered sting of Lestat's fangs, how his lips touched the sensitive skin of his neck. And the tug, the insatiable pull of his blood and his soul through the tiny pinpoints on his neck. He hated him. He loved it. The dual betrayal he felt for Lestat biting him in hatred, and for himself, for being so foolish, for not factoring this into his plan, he didn't want this to have happened. And he didn't want Lestat to have done this to him. Now Lestat had thrown a spanner into the works, and Armand was unsure as how to proceed. He was also unsure why Lestat bit him. Was it out of rage? He couldn't stand it if it was! If anyone bit him without his consent, it was as unforgivable to him as rape. Did Lestat care when he bit him, or was it just a cruel action? He didn't like it. He had to know.

Armand paced away from the dark of the balcony into the light of the living room. He would find out later. He would find it just as soon as he finished his latest plan. He turned into the warm embrace of his master, now filled with the blood of killers and surrendered his turbulent thoughts into the safety of his arms. His master would keep him safe, chase away those thoughts of dark holes and sharp teeth. He would be happy and protected tonight, but he knew in the morning the nightmares would come. And so his master would stay near him through the day.

**Sorry for the wait, I have been without internet capabilities for the long and luxurious holiday I've had. It was very inspiring and I got a lot of writing done, including some other projects I've yet to release. The holiday has influenced my writing a bit, so you may notice that. To all of you, I hope you had a wonderful christmas and New Years, and could you please review with double enthusiasm as I am posting two very long chapters for your enjoyment. Review and good night!**


	5. Apologize for burying me, please

Several nights passed on the island. The air was scented with tension and avoidance as the entire coven was at odds with each other. Mostly at odds with Lestat, but at any time when Lestat was involved in some kind of drama, there was a general feeling of worry within the coven as any one of them could be roped into his shenanigans when he got like this. Marius was still wary of his own temper, and so avoided Lestat like the plague, hoping that time could excuse his lapse in civility. Louis was intent on his reading, hell bent on ignoring his blonde maker, and spent most of his time now with David and Armand, which irritated Lestat further. It seemed to Lestat that Armand held all the cards now, and that infuriated him more than anything. Lestat was feeling a peculiar compulsion towards Armand, half of him at war with the tiny vampire, the other half drawn inexplicably to him, his eyes always glued to the boy's thin frame, watching his movements, the graceful turn of his hand, the slight of his head, his auburn curls lit up by the ceiling lamps. Every detail Lestat absorbed conflicted him. This little child who took so much from Lestat; who took his possessions, his reputation, his Louis. When did he start feeling this way? So ... So conflicted?

Armand was conflicted too. He should be feeling satisfied right now. He should be ridiculously happy that everything is going his way. But he just felt confused. Lestat had thrown him off when he bit him. Everything felt off, wrong. Until he knew what Lestat meant with his bite, his victory had lost its savour. Now Armand just wandered through the benefits he procured with his dramatic misdeed. Louis was becoming closer to him, and so that thankfully negated the Santino part of the plan. His master was obsessively protective over him, ever since he lost his temper at Lestat like that. There was something irresistible, Armand found, in his master's reaction. The strength he bestowed to protecting what is his. For Armand considered himself Marius' possession. Not exclusive, Armand could choose other partners if he so desired, but Armand would always come back to his master, always be ready by his side if he so required him. His violent, jealous reaction only mirrored Armand's own reaction, should anyone try to hurt his master in his presence. David Talbot watched Armand with the same detached curiosity he always had. The only sign that he favoured Armand now was the amount of time he spent reading in his company, rather than in the company of his maker, who wandered around depressed and dejected, all his company having left him. Talbot could just have been following Armand for the purpose of his scientific observation. He had a very clinical view when it came to Armand, this view only punctuated by his steamy torrents of desire directed towards him when he reached a block of understanding with the boy child's behaviour. And so a new company was formed, Louis, Marius, David, Daniel and Armand all banding against Lestat. Whenever Lestat entered a room Armand was in, the entire group stood defensively around the teen aged vampire, ending any dialogue between the feuding parties, but effectively protecting Armand from any future attack. Louis scowled on the biting and all of Lestat's previous schemes as being "The cruel actions of an immortal idiot" and sided firmly with Armand, not allowing himself to be alone with Lestat, lest the blonde charmer sway him again, as he usually did after every fight they had. Lestat spent most of his nights hunting by the quay, and dallying by the bars and darker hotspots of the Night Island. He wondered if he would ever get back together with the coven and ached with loneliness.

Sitting in the studio of the manor, overlooking the gardens, Armand and his entourage were perched about the easels in the art room while master and fledgling attempted to paint. Marius painted as is his fashion, his brush flying across the canvas as he depicted the unbridled beauty of this garden, mingled with the details of his dream garden, which worked its way into every landscape he painted. Armand sat, daubing red in impressionistic splotches across the moonlit poppies he dotted into the bottom right corner of his canvas. He was much quieter than his exuberant master, who chatted up a storm with his unaccustomed audience.

"And so we had to sell the canvases after Bianca opened the house the first time. Some of the paintings were stolen by the guests, if you can imagine that!"

"No! Didn't you want to get them back?" Daniel eagerly followed the conversation.

"Well, to be honest, we didn't notice they were gone. There were so many paintings around the house; it was only three months later that we discovered they were missing!"

"Where did they end up?"

"Most likely in your files, eh David?" Marius gestured to David, who laughed and nodded absently as he remained half entrenched in his book.

"We never got them back, although I have a rough idea of who took them. Do you remember Giovanni, Amadeo?"

"Hmmm? What was that, master?"

"Do you remember Giovanni? Giovanni Voile? The ship-smythe?"

Armand looked blankly at the paint on his canvas. Not looking up he replied.

"Giovanni? Is this the Giovanni who sold his two daughters when his wife died?"

"Ahh, yes. I forgot that he did that. Yes, that Giovanni."

Daniel leaned forward. "What did he do? Sell his own daughters? Why would he do that?"

"Well, Giovanni had some pretty severe, pretty public money problems. And so after his wife died -"

Armand allowed himself to zone out again. Vaguely he could hear his master continue the conversation, but his own thoughts were elsewhere. He remembered Giovanni, not for the money problems he had, but for the numerous drunken attempts he had made to seduce the human Amadeo. He had not liked him. His daughters were beautiful creatures who were oft abused by the drunken labourer, until he sold them to one of the Venetian brothel owners, the same ones who leered at Amadeo while he held his master's hand. He had not liked them either.

He painted some more of the scarlet hue onto his canvas, unhappy with the feel of the paint, the brush, the canvas. It was so different from the paints he had once used. The primed wood canvases and the powders and minerals he had added to his yolk to create the beauty not made by human hands. His master had said he had recourse to paint with the materials of this time, to learn the different arts he had forsaken through the many years of his wandering. Still, Armand was unsatisfied, and he knew not why.

A silent tugging on his mind drew him away from the conversation of his Roman master. He closed his eyes and focused on it, surrendered to it. This tugging in the corner of his mind was filled with birdsong, laughter, warm breezes and supple embraces that led him gently to the shore of the island. Siren call, leading him to the beach where he could almost feel the spray of the sea on his skin, hear the crash of the waves and the crunch of sand beneath his feet. It was insatiable, it was fearful, and it was peaceful. He knew not why he felt this sudden compulsion to head towards the beach, only the insistence of the song inside his head that urged him to come. That told him where he would find his peace, his completion. He sat still, listening to this voice, his brush held in his immobile hand, halfway between his canvas and palette. His eyes were glazed and distant as he sat stiller than a statue for the long period of his concentrated thought.

"-madeo? Amadeo? Are you listening? Here, Daniel, will you nudge him for me? He's just dozed out for a moment."

Daniel's shove knocked Armand out of his trance. The hand that held the paintbrush had remained still for so long, the red paint had dripped down the length of the brush and down onto Armand's slender wrist. With Daniel's shove the brush streaked across Armand's canvas, a red slash across the delicate artwork.

"Ah, what are you-?"

"Oh, shoot! Sorry boss, I didn't mean to wreck your painting. You were spacing out a bit there."

"Amadeo, you are thoroughly splattered with that red paint!" Marius began laughing at his surprised fledgling. He looked blankly at his master, red paint running down his arm. Then down at his clothing.

"Oh, oh right." Armand said, vacant still, thinking of the beautiful singing of the beach in his mind. Neither Marius nor Daniel could see into his thoughts, but David could. The old scholar looked up curiously from the book he held in his burgundy hands.

"I'll just go clean up." Armand said, thoughts of the beach filling his head.

Louis looked up. He smiled to himself at the parallel, that Armand was covered in red paint now, as Lestat was covered in blue paint. He shook that thought away, he already thought too fondly of Lestat, and he had to keep reminding himself that they were in a fight.

"Will you be alright?" Louis asked the same time that Daniel chimed in.

"Do you need any help?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Armand replied, sounding somewhat like himself again. "It's only paint. I can clean it off myself. It's your fault anyway."

"I was only asking." Daniel pouted. "And I already apologized, give me a break!"

_Give him a break?_ Armand thought. _I could give him several. Why does he ask that?_ Then the singing of the sea joined his thoughts once more.

"Fine. You can stay here. I'll see you later."

He left the room, picking his way through the easels towards his private quarters. He splashed his face with water in the sink. Staring into his mirror, he washed the red off his hands. Laughing, he spoke to himself. "Hmm, all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Is that not so? That is the line, I think it. Hmm, all up my arm. Ah well, it is off now."

"_Armand, we wait for you Armand"_

He stopped and looked around. He distinctly heard this call. It was like a chorus of angels. Where was it coming from?

"Who are you? Where do you wait? Are you spirits?"

The balcony doors of Armand's room blew open in a sudden gust of cold air. The view of the beach from the balcony seemed illuminated in an unearthly light. Perhaps it was just in Armand's mind. It sent chills down his spine.

"_We wait for you Armand. Find us"_

The visions of unendurable beauty held onto Armand's mind. So strong were these visions that they took total control over Armand's brain. One second he was standing in the middle of his bedroom, the next he was in the middle of the beach, a full mile away from the villa. Armand clutched his head, which was now in painful agony, the images in his mind fighting to regain control.

Armand cried out in pain, his slender hands clawing at his hair, his eyes scrunched up tightly, forcing the presence out of his head. Who was doing this? This isn't right. This is not what he wanted, to lose control like this. Where was the music? Where were the angels? Tears flowed over Armand's cheeks as he curled up in a tight ball. It hurt.

Suddenly the pain stopped. Cold slender fingers caressed Armand's jaw and ran up his cheeks, gathering the blood tears onto the length of the digit. Armand's eyes fluttered open, slowly, as he saw the faint image of a pale face, a shock of blonde hair, and the piercing blue that must be the eyes. Falling back down into a dead swoon, Armand saw no more.

Lestat did not know when he had begun his calling of Armand. He had no specific goal or aim in drawing the boy-child down to the beach. Just this strong, overpowering desire to see him once more. To taste him again and find what truth he held in his wide brown eyes. This mixture of hatred and longing he felt for Armand was driving Lestat into deeper and deeper despair. The more he thought on it, he realised that this want was always there, with their arguments. If Lestat did not want trouble with Armand he could have just not seen him again. Why he always came back, and then drew away from him when he became close was what bothered Lestat. He always did such cruel things to him to mask his fear of forming a relationship with the diminutive vampire. And why? Was Armand that Goddamn tempting? Lestat called out to him now, determined in his mind to lure the boy down to where he was, to question him himself. Did Armand care? Did he realise how goddamn lonely Lestat was? Did he know that Lestat wanted him, to understand him and mend their feud? The thirst burned in Lestat. He had hunted earlier this evening, but this was a different thirst. He paced on the shore, kicking at the sand in frustration. He sat on a dune and held his chin in his hands. That little brat probably couldn't be happier, now that he'd got what he wanted. Lestat wanted things too now. He wanted closure. He wanted revenge. He wanted his love. He wanted his blood. He wanted Armand not just to have his blood taken from him; Lestat wanted Armand to give him his blood. To give in to him, just this one time. Lestat frowned to himself. Was Armand coming? Had he followed the message he had sent for him? Looking up, he scanned the line of the beach. Nothing. Then across the horizon of the beach Armand came running. Lestat focused on his mind. Did he know what it meant? Does he know what he's doing here? Has he given in? Lestat listened into Armand's mind only to hear the deep echoes of nothingness. Just the pictures he had painted for Armand. The childish fantasies to lure him to Lestat. Enraged, Lestat threw his anger at the brainwashed vampire. Armand, having broken from the illusion for a moment, looked around him, then, feeling the brunt of Lestat's anger, cried out in pain. He stumbled, trying to run from the pain. His hands flew to his head. Grasping his ears, the useless gesture was much like a child shutting its ears to nightmares. He fell to his knees and curled his head to his chest. Lestat stopped. He hadn't meant his anger to go this far. He didn't want to hurt Armand again, like he always did. He was standing in front of Armand, and he could see that he was crying. Gently, Lestat kneeled down and turned the weeping boy's face towards his. He slid his fingers across Armand's cheeks, gathering the blood tears on them. Almost instinctively, Lestat put the bloodied fingers to his mouth, and tasted Armand's blood once more. The few drops were intense with their sweetness, a thick, soft honey that was tainted with sorrow. A cascade of sighs and lonely lamentations were tasted in the blood, and Lestat felt his sorrow mirrored in this blood. This lonely child who ran out to the beach, completely unguarded, to find an end to his pain. Armand's eyes blinked open. _Yes_, Lestat thought_, I will end your pain. You and I should end this dance and walk back into the light together_. Armand's perfect face contorted with sorrow, then slid to blankness. Lestat held him in his arms, looking into the child's face when suddenly; Armand fell back onto the sand, in a dead faint.

"Oh! Oh no! Armand? Hey, wake up? Oh shit, did I do this?"

Lestat picked up Armand's body and cradled it in his arms. In the midst of his panic, he felt Armand's tiny chest rise as he woke again, and Lestat let out a great sigh of relief.

_Phew!_

_I'm so sorry. Master, please. Come and take me away from here. I want no angels but you._

Armand opened his eyes slightly to see a curtain of blonde hair covering his vision as someone licked the tears from his eyes. Cool hands held his jaw and patted his hair. Armand sighed, and in that breath, whispered "Padrone". The face above him stopped, and then gently tilted Armand's head to kiss his lips. Once, twice, then opened his mouth to pour into Armand's the sticky sweetness of the blood_. Master._

_Wait, no, this isn't Padrone's blood. This isn't blood that I've had in such a long time. Never was it given to me. This blood has tasted the blood of Christ, the blood of the fount, the queen and all the saints of our Parthenon. Do I want this? Or do I want to take this?_ Armand struggled under Lestat's kiss, and then broke free from it, coughing up the blood Lestat forced down his throat.

He fell on all fours on the beach, racking the blood from his throat. Lestat sat up and threw his arms in the air.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"You *cough* bastard!"

"You wanted this! I thought you wanted this!"

Armand sat up and wiped the blood from his lips.

"No, not like this. Not forced like this."

"You just spat it all out? Why? Don't you like it?"

Armand smiled sarcastically. "It was lovely."

Lestat looked at Armand, his brow furrowed in confusion. Armand turned his head away and looked at the sand. He brushed his hands clean and moved to stand up. Lestat suddenly tackled him to the ground.

"What are-? What are you doing you idiot?"

"Ha ha! I gotcha Armand! You are going down!"

"I'm not going to fight you. You're just being childish!"

"Now that's rich." Lestat said with a smile, as he sat on Armand's chest. He reached back to Armand's boots and took them off. "Calling me the childish one. I really don't know why you say it. It only serves to invite comment on your own dubious nature."

"What do you mean dubious? And get off me. What are you doing with my shoe?"

"Just an experiment. To see if there is any time when you actually seem human. And the dubious thing, now don't let that bother you. It's just like how odd it is to see David as this weird mix of old man and young Indian. You are this strange mix of heartless bastard and innocent child."

"Hey!" Armand yelled. "I'm not a child." Lestat grinned. They were falling into their usual pattern again. And he was quite confident that he loved it.

"Oh, I think you are." Lestat grinned. "A wailing, whining, screaming, squealing monstrous child." Lestat had taken off Armand's sock and took hold of his ankle in a vice like grip. "Will you squeal for me, Armand? Will you throw a calamitous tantrum for me?"

Armand froze, the intents of Lestat became obvious, and Armand did not like those intents.

"Lestat, you stop right there. No! No more! Don't. Let go of my foot Lestat, no!"

"Don't let go of your foot? Well, alright. If you insist."

"No, no – ahah! Ahahahahahahahahahaha! Ah, ah no! Stop sto-o-o-o-o-o-p! Please! Ah, Lestat! No!"

Lestat smiled. Armand begged him to stop, but it was just too entertaining to watch the arrogant vampire squirm like this. It was a little known fact that Armand's feet were devilishly ticklish, and it was a fact that Lestat often kept as his ace in the hole. The use of this ace usually solved most of their fights simply because a) it lightened the mood, with Armand's uncontrollable laughing fit, and Lestat's pleasure at spying this phenomenon, and b) Lestat restored the peace by threatening to tell the rest of the coven of Armand's tickly weakness.

Armand did look entirely human, laughing uncontrollably as he did. His little arms pushing at the blonde vampire sitting on his chest. That would work normally, but this tactic was ineffective as Armand's whole body was caught up in the spasms of the tickling.

"You want me to stop, you little devil? You want me to stop?"

"Yes! Please!"

"Awww." Lestat laughed once more, and then rolled off Armand, onto the sand.

"Heh heh, you – you're alright Armand." He turned to face Armand, to see his defeated and exasperated expression, but instead he saw his fist.

Armand swung a punch at Lestat and knocked him to the beach floor. Pinning Lestat, he laughed and flicked his hair out of his face.

"Ha! Who's laughing now, brat?"

"You hit me! You're the brat!"

Armand leaned over the restrained vampire and nuzzled into his throat.

"Mmm, I don't really care, either way."

Lestat tried to look up, and then threw his head back down on the sand.

"Oh, so now he wants my blood. What is this? Revenge for being tickled, or are you just embarrassed to act like the child you are?"

"Shut up." Armand murmured, close to Lestat's neck. "You are making amends to me for before."

Lestat raised his brow, but said nothing. Armand licked the skin on Lestat's neck, then bit. In the swoon he could taste a myriad of sighs like his own, and the longing and loneliness Lestat felt for Armand. Lestat swooned a little himself with the bite, but stayed alert enough to note Armand's relaxed hold on him. Lestat slid out of Armand's restraining arms and sat up, the boy child's hands still on Lestat's shoulders, his fangs still embedded in Lestat's neck. Lestat surveyed Armand's tilted neck himself, and brushing the boy's auburn hair over his shoulder, Lestat leaned into Armand's exposed neck and bit. Their minds melded together. All Lestat's thoughts were open to Armand, and all his thoughts were open to Lestat. Lestat saw the images Armand had felt when Lestat had sent his call to him; how Armand had wanted to believe they were real. Typical Armand, Lestat had thought. Lestat wanted to know which of his actions were the 'before' he was making up for. The two vampires relinquished their grip on the other, their teeth sliding out from the wounds that they licked clean, with gentle cat-like laps.

_Armand, you silly poppet. You innocent fiend. You have a lot of 'before' factors you tax me of._

_Well, it was in your own destructive nature that these factors came about, Lestat. Lestat, the lavicious letch. _

_Lavicious letch! Those are some harsh words you throw about. All I did was rape you, attack you, bury you alive, betray your trust, you know, the usual._

_The usual. The only solace I am to find in this embrace is your peculiar vocabulary. You have no apologies for me?_

_Why should I apologize? After taking one look at your grand scheme, I find myself in fear for my peace and sanity. And anyway, I don't apologize. I am the Vampire Lestat. _

_Oh, so that excuses you of the rape does it? I was in mental agony, you understand. That is the absolute worst thing that could happen to me. _

_Worse than loneliness? Worse than the sun?_

_We both know of these things, and know this truth that for me, it is worse. _

_Alright then. Armand, I apologize for raping your virginal neck._

_Thank you. You are forgiven. Do I get any other apologies?_

_Sigh, fine then. Armand, I apologize for attacking you, envying you, betraying your trust, being cruel to you, hating your guts and all the usual. Please forgive me. _

_No, what about the other one?_

_I see no other one to apologize for._

_For burying me alive!_

_Can't honestly say I'd never do that again._

_God, I hate you. _

_I love you too, baby. _

_You are infuriating. Really the damndest creature. _

_You know what is peculiar? How you think two contrasting things at the same time. Surely you are the most conflicted being I have ever met. The weirdest creature. _

_No, that's you. Any creature that actively seeks out its own destruction must have a serious defect._

_You are a serious defect. And what was with that plan anyway? Did you want to drive me crazy? Wait, I know the answer to that. _

_Yeeeessss?_

_Begins with a 'y'..._

_Yeeeessss?_

_Is it... a yes?_

_Why, Lestat! You're uncanny! You're also an idiot. So no apologies from me tonight. _

_But, you painted my whole room blue, you destroyed my memoirs, you kneed me in the nads, you pushed me off a rooftop!_

_Pshaw. That was ages ago._

_Why didn't you want my blood when I gave it to you before?_

_Oh, I don't know. It's not as fun when I don't have to drag it out myself. And that would be too easy on you. I wanted a choice._

_For someone so bitter, you do taste sweet. Sweeter than most bloods. _

_Padrone tells me that. He must think I've fallen down the sink._

_Why would you be in a sink?_

Armand held up his sleeve, the red paint stained the cuffs of his shirt.

_Playing rough I see, you little rapscallion._

_Its paint, idiot. And we probably should be getting back now. We were painting, but I feel like doing something else now. Something less static and boring._

_I'm not sure. _Lestat communicated to Armand his worry and anger through the higher channels.

_It will be fine, 'Stat. It was our fighting that started it, I'm sure Louis will forgive you when he see's we've made peace. _

_We were in a different fight. He's probably still mad. _

_Don't be so sure. You know, he smiled to himself every time he saw the blue paint in the studio. He'd be very forgiving for you._

Lestat's thoughts were wordless now, as he concentrated on his love for Louis, his anger when they fought, his sadness that they were separated, that he wasn't talking to him. He missed just spending time with Louis, when all was quiet and he could simply watch the graceful compassionate being, contemplating a new piece of artwork, or reading Keats by candle light. Armand decided he would cheer Lestat up, as a sort of peace offering. He would restore Louis and Lestat's broken bond.

_Do you want to race cars on the Wii, 'Stat? Daniel and I unlocked a new level and we've yet to try it out. We could get David in on it too; you know how funny David is on the Wii. _

Lestat remembered, the old Englishman was at first dismissive of the game system as something of the modern generation of teenagers and tech jockeys. However, when he tried out the Wii boxing, a competitive fire lit in the old man, and ever since, he was a strong advocate of the Wii system, his scores averaging above pro in all the applications. To see him play was hilarious, as he was suddenly a sore loser, should anyone test his score.

Lestat smiled to himself. Then his grin broadened as he faced Armand.

_You know, I haven't played that Wii Tennis in a while. That could be fun, could we do that too?_

_Oh, then you know that Padrone will join in, if you're playing the tennis. He broke the remote last time. _

_Really?_ Lestat laughed and tried to picture it in his head.

_Twice!_ The young boy replied, smiling both at the memory and Lestat's much improved disposition.

Together, walking with arms draped across each other's shoulders, Lestat and Armand made their way back up to the manor.

Louis was consumed with a quiet confusion when he left the studio; the prospect of staying around to listen to Marius's fond recollections of all the Venetian rogues who pilfered his paintings was not an endearing one. As soon as Armand had left, Marius began doting on him from afar, sharing stories of his human life with him. As interesting and no doubt valuable as this information was (I must keep this in mind to tell Lestat later – Louis thought) he had no patience for it when his mind was in such turmoil. It was like having an unfortunate itch that you know you're not to scratch. Every time you realise you are unconsciously scratching it, you pull yourself back into check, then feel bad for having such a lapse in the first place. This parallel was Louis' affection for Lestat. Every time he felt himself softening to the reckless vampire was a time he corrected himself for. No. We are in a fight. That's not funny, or beautiful, or clever, or witty, or something he would like. I must remove my thoughts of him from my head. These thoughts that let him win, walk all over me, like Louis the doormat. Every time Louis shook these thoughts from his head he tried desperately to focus on other things.

"And so he couldn't speak a word of the language. We had to coax him first with Greek, for he knew a little of that, then we had to see that he could translate the Greek to Venetian. There was a marvellous time when he said everything wrong, so it was; Mime Master, Hungering food please, and his accent was atrocious at first. He still had his Russian, but that was buried rather deeply in his mind, so if I were to speak it to him he would startle like a wild animal and start crying uncontrollably. He did cry a lot at first, but he did have some terrible nightmares. Still does."

Daniel listened to the roman as he detailed his paintings, gathering tid bits of information about the life of his stroppy maker. David looked up every now and again, but it seemed his thoughts were elsewhere. Louis listened to Marius, concentrating on not thinking of Lestat.

_I wonder if he caused some of those nightmares. _Louis pondered, and then shook himself again. This was going nowhere. Louis stood up from his chair.

"Louis? Whatever is the matter?" Marius asked, aware of his receding audience.

"Sorry to interrupt Marius. I'm just quite tired. I'm going to go rest, if that is permissible."

Marius blinked. "Well, of course! You don't need to ask my permission Louis. Would you like one of us to wake you before the dawn?"

Louis declined the offer with a shake of his hand and walked out of the room. He stood leaning his head on the door to his bedroom. Lestat's room was just next door. What Louis wanted more than anything was to go into Lestat's room and bury his face in the pillows, breathing in his lover's scent and forgetting all about their fight, all about the anger and just being with Lestat again, sharing some part of him with whatever part of Lestat he could find. Louis wanted to breathe the same air, but no. They were in a fight. He was not a doormat. And besides, he could hear someone in there, and if on the off chance it was Lestat, Louis couldn't very well just barge in there and start sniffing the pillows. Louis walked into his own room and fell down on the lavish green embroidered bed, face first in the pillows and closed his eyes. Sleep was what he wanted. Blissful unconsciousness.

He lay there for a while, not moving. He was trying to get to sleep, but the noise he could hear now from the other room was very distracting. Louis narrowed his eyes as he listened to snippets of the conversation, attempting to discern what was going on in Lestat's room.

He could hear a thumping and several loud shouts.

"No, don't stop. Almost there, I've almost got it!"

"Lean in to it, yes like that. Oh, that bit's very hard."

"Yes, but I am very good. Ready?"

"No, oh no. Stop, you're killing me Lestat."

Louis ears pricked up, he sat up from the bed when he heard this. Lestat killing someone? In his own room?

"I may be killing you, but you love it baby. Once again!"

"No, no more, I can't stand it! Let me have a go!"

"No way Armand, this round's mine."

Lestat and Armand? Louis ran to the door, simultaneously sending a mental message to Marius, David and Daniel. This couldn't be.

"Give it to me, idiot. Do as I say, give it to me already!"

"You want me to give it to you?"

Louis burst through the door, his mind full of what erotic misdoings were going on. He yelled.

"NO! No giving anything to anyone!!!"

He opened his eyes and took in the sight before him. Lestat was standing on the bed, his foot on Armand's chest as he stood on the floor, trying to grab the Wii controller that Lestat held high above his head. On the television screen Lestat's Mii was boxing against David's Mii, the second remote lay motionless on the floor as Lestat and Armand used this time to deliberately sabotage the Englishman's score.

It was clear that Armand wanted a turn. Louis saw how close the two were and was internally thankful they weren't closer. Then he realised what he had just done, and how foolish he must look right now.

"Louis!" Lestat looked up at his green eyed darling, delighted just to see him. He then looked down at the childish position he and Armand were in.

"Oh, we weren't fighting Louis."

"No, definitely not." Armand added shaking his head. He had to rejoin the dream team of Lou-stat. However irritating it might be. Louis still stood dumbstruck watching them. Armand tried to grab the remote from Lestat in the pause, but Lestat manoeuvred away, walking towards his fledgling.

"Louis. Chere. I promise, we've stopped fighting. I'll be good now, I swear."

"'Stat, can I have the remote?" Armand asked. Lestat ignored him.

Lestat reached up to hold Louis' face; Louis turned his head away, abashed.

"No, Lestat, you aren't good."

Lestat looked pained.

"I try to be. I try for you, please Louis. Let me try again. Let us try again. I missed you."

Louis stern face crumbled. He softened up and smiled.

"I missed you too. God, I feel so silly."

Armand asked for the remote once more, still ignored by Lestat and Louis who were wrapped up in their romantic moment of reunion.

Lestat brushed his hand through Louis' hair and smiled.

"Why?"

Suddenly in came the troops! Marius, Daniel and David came running through the doors to Lestat's room.

"Where's the fire!" Daniel stupidly exclaimed, giddy from the excitement.

"We came to protect Armand. Step aside Lestat, stay away from him." Marius decreed.

"No," Lestat pleaded. "We aren't fighting; you don't understan-"CRASH!

Lestat fell to the floor bleeding profusely from the head. Armand stood over him, brandishing the Wiifit board like a weapon.

"Just give me the goddamn remote!"

The room fell silent. Marius' face dropped. His precious fledgling, his innocent cherub, and he needed no protection at all.

"You... fricking psycho Armand!" Lestat yelled, clutching his head. "I'm not finished yet!"

"Mon Dieu, Lestat, are you ok?"

"And pray tell what were you not finished with?" David asked icily as he stepped out of the crowd. Armand and Lestat wore identical expressions of guilt, that they've been caught, that they were in BIG trouble. English trouble.

"We – We were just... I mean..." Lestat stammered from the floor.

Armand pointed to Lestat. "It was his idea. I didn't do it."

"The hell you didn't!!"

"Yes, I didn't. You wouldn't let me touch the remote."

"Age before beauty, cutie!" Lestat gibed with a wink.

"I'm older than you, idiot!"

"Height then."

"Well," David added in his chilly clipped British voice. "Armand, since you did nothing, I strongly suggest you pick up the remote. Did you want a game or not?"

Armand paled. "A game? With you David? Wouldn't you rather play against Lesta-?"

"No. Oh it's on Armand."

Silence. Then Daniel let out an exuberant cheer. "Woo yeah! You are going down boss!"

"Master, can't you play David? He'll clobber me!"

Marius laughed. "Oh no, sweet cherub. You are on your own. Good luck to you."

Louis helped Lestat onto his feet and guided him to the couch where they nestled down together. Armand tried to fly the room but Marius lifted him up and carried him to the front of the couch. Holding him from behind, his hands encircling the small vampire's wrists Marius whispered in his ear.

"Don't fight me love. You're fighting David now."

"But I don't want to." Armand whined.

"I'll help you." He said as he kissed Armand's blushing cheek.

David pulled on his personalised Wii playing gloves and set the game.

"Woo, go David!" Lestat yelled. "That's my fledgling, make me proud!"

"Oh, but you're next Lestat." David smiled.

Lestat looked up at Louis who cradled him in his arms.

"Avenge me, dear Louis."

"Against who?"

"All of them, all of them please."

Louis rolled his eyes.

"Stop complaining Lestat." Armand told him. "I took a bullet for you here, is that how they say it?"

"Yeah, well I took a Wiifit board to the head. Laughs all round that was."

Armand sent his message to Lestat's mind.

_If I hadn't done that, would Louis be licking blood out of your head right now? You should be thanking me!_

_One thank you, that's it from me. Now we're stuck in the cycle of normalcy I won't be so easy on you._

_Oh, this is normal, is it?_

The gong of the bell announced the start of the match. The tournament raged on til the morning.

**There you have it. The conclusion of this chapter, and the rather long story arc of the blue paint revenge. Not to say that this is the end of Armand vs. Lestat, they will continue fighting. Just the end of this long and arduous part of it. For all who read my other piece, The Bite of The Bard, it slots in after this one here. The next chapter will continue on after it. So enjoy. Bon appetite! And I'll post again soon. Aurevoir Cherie!**

**And endless thanks! A Reveiwer number two-er! I'm in writer heaven! Thankyou!**


	6. A Fight and a Murder

**The next chapter. Ohhhh. This one is a bit of a serious one, and there are fewer jokes. This seems to be developing a story line, which is more Lestat's style then Armand's. I remember Armand described Lestat's writing style as :**

**_I had no hopes for his adventure, except that he would appear sooner or later and tell us some fantastical yarn. It would be regular Lestat talk, for nobody aggrandizes as he does his preposterous adventures. This is not to say that he hasn't switched bodies with a human. I know that he has. This is not to say that he didn't wake our fearsome goddess Mother, Akasha; I know that he did. This is not to say that he didn't smash my old superstitious Coven to bits and pieces in the garish years before the French Revolution. I've already told you so. But it's the way he describes things that happen to him that maddens me, the way that he connects one incident to another as though all these random and grisly occurrences were in fact links in some significant chain. They are not. They are capers. And he knows it. But he must make a gutter theatrical out of stubbing his toe._**

**It was origionally planned as a series of events, incidents unconnected to the others, but some sort of form has emerged. I don't know. It's just a rather intruiging incident, I suppose. Look at it that way, because although this is the suspenseful moment in the story, it is not to be the only one, and after it, there will be continuing descriptions of Armand versing Lestat in their tit for tat rivalries. Only now wtih considerable history behind it. Any way. Enjoy, and review. Tell me what you think of it. Here we go!**

Armand's manor had been an amiable hotspot for vampires in the past few weeks, the tense atmosphere of repressed anger and sadness having dissipated after Lestat and Armand's skilful reunion of the coven. Now light hearted and jovial pastimes were frequented. The coven did many activities together, only separating to pursue their more private pastimes, returning to the group refreshed, loved and definitely not thirsty.

The most recent activity was rather tumultuous as what began as a Shakespeare session ended in a scalping, but with the happy conclusion, the vampires once again separated to their chambers.

Armand lay on his master's chest, urgently attempting to place his kisses on the ancient vampire's stone face. He was trying and failing to incite in his master the passion that carried him from his violent activities earlier. His master sat still, receiving his kisses but delivering none of his own. Armand pressed against him again, his hand gripping his master's strong arms to no avail. With a gusty sigh Armand released his master from his fervent embrace and sat up next to him on the bed, a cross little expression on his youthful face. Marius stayed icy as he met his fledgling's accusatory glare. Armand sat with his arms folded across his chest, the scorn of his master affecting his own bad mood.

"What? What is it? What is it now? What have I done wrong?"

Marius fixed him in his steady gaze. His look said to Armand what his lips did not.

You know what.

"Look, I lost my temper with David. It was regrettable, and I promise to apologize to him first thing tomorrow night, ok? Good." And with that Armand launched himself back into the kisses. Marius raised his hand and gently pushed his amorous fledgling away. Armand looked back up at him with confusion and hurt in his wide brown eyes. Marius looked down at his fledgling with a similar pain in his eyes.

He paused before speaking, as if choosing how to phrase his particular case. "Why did you lose your temper, Armand?"

Armand instantaneously felt sorrow. It was as if he were being scolded, when ever Marius called him Armand. It distanced them, and brought to Armand a sense of realisation as to how much he changed.

"I... because – he insulted me."

Now Marius looked pained. "What part of it insulted you? Surely not the petty comments. Why did you react so?"

Armand blushed with shame, thinking back on the fight. He suddenly felt a bubble of anger burst inside of him.

"You know. So don't ask this of me! Don't make me the bad one. You were the one who let me go. You didn't exactly stop this. Don't pin the blame on me. I wasn't the only mad one. Don't ask this of me."

Marius took Armand by the arm and squeezed it tightly. Perhaps too tight, for his anger was triggered then.

"I am asking, so tell me, and tell me the truth. Why did you attack David? Why are you like this?"

"I'm not a whore! And I can fight anyone who calls me this! You can't tell me what to do!"

"You can't fight people in this way! You can't be cruel to the others! Why are you like this!!?" Marius roared at his contrary fledgling. Armand was at the end of his tether, being shook and yelled at by his master. He had a rough night. Tears were already brimming in his eyes. And he was angry. Why should he be treated like this, by his master of all people. He wrenched his arm free from the grip of the roman vampire.

"You tell me!!" he yelled at his master. "You tell me! Should I be nicer to them? Should I act younger for them? Vulnerable for them? Stupid for them? Should I act like I don't know how they hate me? Should I act sleepy or innocent, or every cursed way I act for you?!!"

Marius was stunned. Armand broke down sobbing into his hands.

"I can't do it. I just can't do it. I can't help it."

Marius watched his fledgling sob, torn between wanting to comfort him, and apologize for anything and everything. For their fight. For his questioning. For making him do what he didn't want to. For refusing to acknowledge the bridge of sorrow and guilt that separated them all these years. And between yelling at him some more. Blaming him for his cruelty. The way he turned out. The way he gave in and forgot all he taught him. How he gave up all hope that Marius was alive and blindly followed that wretch Santino. He wanted to call him a whore and hurl insults at him and force the memories out of his head until he was that blank canvas he was when he first came to Marius, the starving slave boy who saw him as a god. He wanted something from this fight. When he asked his child why he was like this he wanted his child to hurl blameful insults on Santino, disowning his past as coven master and returning to Marius' arms the loving child he had always been.

He wanted closure.

"Maybe I am cruel. It's my fault. I'm wrong. I'm horrible. A devil. I'm sorry master, I'm so sorry." Armand cried and cried, heaping the blame on himself. Curled up in his tight little ball he felt the tender arms of his master enclose about him. He didn't look up, but nuzzled closer to him. He wanted to feel held and safe, and he didn't want to know if his master was still angry at him. He wanted to pretend that he still wanted him. He knew he was too far gone now, that in coming to live with him, he had once again come to love him and need him.

_And now_, Armand thought, _I have come to the point where I need him more than he needs me. In his cruel embrace where my passion for him overshadows his for me. Oh, how I would weep if that were true. How much I have forsaken to be with him. The company of my once mortal children, the love of my fledgling Daniel, my ability to live in solitary existence._

_But no. I never could live alone. Not very well. I always had someone beside me, no matter how lonely I felt. Santino, or Allesandra, or those wretched mummers from the theatre. Even when Louis wandered the world with me, half hating me, I wasn't really alone. _

He felt Marius shaking as he held him in his arms.

"My child." He finally said, his voice frail as if he were crying too. "My child." He held Armand tighter in his arms, and Armand cuddled into him. He didn't care that he'd changed into this. Why was he fighting it still. Isn't this better? To be with him? Why couldn't he be different for his master, not just act different? Marius smoothed back his cherubic child's hair and wiped away his tears. Armand was relieved to note the tender expression on his master's face, full of love and forgiveness.

"I love you. Child, it's true. I know you aren't cruel. You are kind, innocent, forgiving and sweet, and you know in your heart that that is how you truly are. But you hide it from the others. You wear the mask of harsh words and violent actions due to the terrors of your past. And you..."

Marius paused, a strained expression on his face. Should he continue, he wondered, and expose to Amadeo his weak hatred for Santino even now?

"And you continue to blame yourself for this."

Armand looked up at his master, the red tearstains below his eyes remained from where he had cried before. His tears had subsided somewhat in the past few seconds and his eyes were clear as his puzzled gaze lit his master's face.

"But master, who would I blame for the way I am?"

"Is there no one you would blame?"

Armand struggled to read the emotion in his master's face. Was it guilt? Bitterness?

"Nnnnn, I don't know. I don't know." And a new thought occurred to him as the possible reason for his master's distancing tactics tonight. "You know I don't blame you. I'd never blame you. Is that why you're acting like this? I would never – Master, please, I love you."

Marius reached for his fledgling's frantic hands as they reached to comfort him. The roman held his child's hands tightly as he shook his head and bid to stop that train of thought in its tracks.

"Is there no one else you would blame?"

There was another long pause.

"What-? What are you - ? What do you mean?"

Marius was already shaking his head keen on dropping the conversation.

"Nothing. It's nothing. It doesn't matter. Forget it."

Armand opened his mouth to press the point, then closed it again. Second guessing his actions, as he didn't want to displace the balance in the relationship now. What did he mean though? Was he giving him a way out? A way to blame another for his actions tonight? Why?

Armand pressed his confused face into his master's shoulder. Marius held the back of his skull and planted kisses on the top of his head. Rocking slowly, the two sat in silence and thought to themselves. The solace of the other's company enough for them. They stayed like that for the rest of the night, pressing their kisses on each other and reclined on the bed, they slowly faded into a pleasant sleep with an hour left til sunrise. The lightproof rooms would keep them safe, and all lights immediately turned off in the manor when the sun came up.

Louis and Lestat read Shakespeare in Lestat's room all night, smooching in the romantic scenes and reading in turns the character's that they liked. Lestat wowed Louis by his acting of the flight scene in Midsummer Night's Dream, and it was all Louis could do to stop Lestat from putting 'a girdle round the earth in twenty minutes'.

David hunted in Miami for a while, then retired to his coffin soon after to hasten the healing of his skin.

Daniel had thoroughly enjoyed Sherlock Holmes and was laughing to himself as he walked to the manor. He should have to take Armand there and see if he could tell him about the history of the film. The accuracy in the designs and clothing. The way life was in such an antiquated (to Daniel) time. That and Daniel just wanted an excuse to say to Armand "You wear a jacket!". Daniel had laughed when Watson threw Holmes' waistcoat out the carriage, as it reminded him of Armand, throwing his copy of Lestat's book out of a moving train once. So much of the film reminded him of Armand, and he was both eager to see him again and tell him of all this, and infuriated that the memory of Armand had distracted him all night.

Whistling the theme from the film, Daniel strode through the back entrance to the manor, and went for a walk through the gardens to get to the house. Not the most direct route, he conceded to himself, but definitely the most beautiful. He stared at the roses gilded in moonlight with the eyes of a newborn vampire. Everything was beautiful.

Suddenly, he stopped. Froze. There was an unusual scent in the air. Spilt blood. He followed the scent, fearful of what it would lead to. No one ever killed on the manor grounds. It just wasn't done. That was the rule. He saw a large red puddle that led down to the security team's shed. Daniel knew most of the men who worked as guards at the manor and was on good terms with them. The vampires at the manor all knew not to touch the security guards, as they were providing a service to Armand, and besides that, they were innocents. Daniel felt a sense of dread as he approached the shed; the sticky red liquid's scent confirming Daniel's suspicions. He swung open the door of the shed and saw the pile of bodies.

"Ahh, AHHHHHHHH!" Daniel screamed and backed away from the mess. He took deep breaths, affected by shock and the dual enticement of the blood that cascaded from the shed. Dead. All dead. They were all dead. He saw the body of Damien the 20 year old security intern on the top of the horrendous mound. Daniel had talked to him earlier this evening, before the Shakespeare shoot-off.

_We talked about his wife, for god's sake! We talked about his pregnant wife. He had a family!_

Daniel was sickened. He started turning around, looking for help.

"Armand!" he screamed. "ARMAND!"

"Oh god, oh god. What do I do? What am I gonna – who did this?!!"

"ARMAND!!"

Daniel wept and fumbled with his phone.

"I have to call someone. I have to call – "

But the sun was coming up. The dawn was approaching. Daniel could feel it. Weakening his limbs, forcing him into the manor's basements. Slowly he backed away from the mountain of bodies, shaking his head as the tears fell from his eyes.

"I'll find them. I'll help you. I promise." Daniel held one last glance into the vacant empty eyes of Damien the security guard, the young man who was starting a life. Whose life was ended tonight. Daniel registered a smell. The smell of vampire. As he fell into the death like sleep in the basement the smell was the last thing he remembered.

In Armand's room, the master and fledgling were curled on the bed, Armand slept on his side, his tiny arm cradling his head. Marius lay beside him, his long arm draped over Armand's hips as he slept too. Unbeknownst to them, another sat in the chamber with them. Sitting vigil next to the plush bed, Santino looked down on the sleeping Armand, stroking his face gently with his stone cold fingers. Armand had already entered the death sleep, but Marius, hovering on the edge of consciousness registered very faintly the words that were said.

Stroking Armand's face, Santino kissed him gently on the cheek. Armand remained in his deep unconsciousness, his skin like frozen marble. Santino's hands were warm. Warm with the blood of the dead security guards piled up in the shed. Armand stirred on contact with the heat, but otherwise made no move to wake up, only snuggling deeper into the pillows.

"Sleep now, my cruel child of darkness." Santino whispered into his ear. "Dream hideous dreams as the dreams you've given me. I called to you, and you refused me. You did not come when I asked you to, and so I have come to you. I have come to take you away so my mind can be sane and my body sated."

His voice dropped, as the maniacal edge in his voice heightened.

"You have caused me pain. You have taunted me constantly with your presence and my actions. But I know I was right. You are never to blame me, for I was right. You are strangled here in his presence. As the company of these pompous savages destroys your beautiful soul. I heard you went to the sun. I saw the veil myself. I wanted to steal it back. I wanted to steal you back. I would have kept your lace and bones and consoled myself with the memory. But he burned them. How can you stand it, being so close to this monster. Who else knows of the spiritual but us? Who else has understood as you have. No one. We were pure and then tainted. Before I die I want purity again. Even if I must carve it from your heart. I will accept death happily if I have that purity. My final wish before I go to what angels or devils will deliver me to the hell much stronger than that which we suffer here. A pure hell. I will take your pure spirit with me. I want your pure, and I want to end it, as I end. I want to end."

Slowly, Santino bowed his head to the coming sun. The hollowed cheeks and tussled hair prominent on his beautiful face, revealing the dilapidated nature of his health. His sanity. He was determined to forge through his last wishes a path to end his pitiful existence.

He kissed Armand once more, and ran a covetous hand over his arm.

"I will make you cruel and twisted as I, then perhaps one day you will have the strength to join me properly. So we truly can walk together in hell. My dark angel, my love."

The sun rose and their world ended.

**DUN DUN DUUUUUUN!! Reviews appreciated. Ciao!**


	7. a note from your pilot

**Crrck, uh. This is your captain speaking.**

**Just a small note to address the amazing points of my dear Svetlana, who made some things clear to me which I feel deserve an explanation. (And thank you Svetlana, this sort of proof reading is really helpful to me in delivering a good story to you and improving my writing skills and the continuity of the story. If ever in any future stories, this occurs, can you tell me so I can fix it as best I can? Ta )**

_Marius says he wants to "force the memories out of his head until he was that blank canvas". But Marius can't get into Armand's mind._

_I think it's strange that Santino is still awake when Marius is not. Marius is many years older than Santino and he should have woken up._

_And vampires still defend themselves in their sleep, so Armand should have lashed out at Santino without being conscious of it_**.**

**Marius cannot get into Armand's mind, I know that and I feel it is a given. But being locked out like that would make Marius want it more. And even amongst themselves vampires, whilst being able to read the contents of each other's minds, cannot considerably alter it. So I feel that is a moot point. Marius wants to have the amnesiac Amadeo that he first had, and that may be possible, like Hayman and his vacationing memories. I did not imply that Marius had any means of forcing the memories from Armand. Marius does not even know what Armand thinks about these things now, which is why they had their fight. They fight about the past, the unspoken thoughts and part of the reason for this fighting is the frustration they have in not understanding each other without the mental link. This is why Armand thinks Marius doesn't love him, when he does, and why Marius thinks that Santino did something to Armand to make him love him less.**

**True about the Santino bit, Marius should be awake later. The reason I put him to sleep so soon is that he's already settled down into the sleeping mode. As seen in queen of the damned, vampires can stay up past sunrise if they avoid the rays of the sun, Santino is in the artificially blackened room, and he has a considerable amount of mania and crazy driving him to stay up. That and he just massacred the entire security team. He is feeling strong. Marius and Armand had shared the blood in their reunion, and so that may have weakened them somewhat, but it's not the reason, or that would be silly. I think the main reason is just that Marius went to sleep with Amadeo before the rise of the dawn and had settled into their final sleep thinking that nothing would or could disturb them in these safe chambers. While Armand is asleep fully, Marius is vaguely conscious of another in the chamber, as "Marius, hovering on the edge of consciousness registered very faintly the words that were said." But he did not act on the words as he was half asleep. When I'm half asleep I know I may hear at the time the words said to me, but I'd just as soon forget them when I shut my eyes again.**

**With the defence in their sleep bit, I thought about that too, and I thought back to the incident in the chapel in the Vampire Armand, when Lestat lay comatose on the chapel floor and let Armand drink from him and stroke his face. They lash out against human invaders for sure, like Lestat telling Dora she cannot lay with him of a daytime, but vampires maybe not so much. For Lestat could have killed all the vampires in the chapel to preserve his resting place but he didn't, and Marius, when he slept in the tomb of those who must be kept, had many years of restful sleep with two incredibly powerful vampires in the same room as him. Sure, they don't move about that much, but they open tabernacle doors and break vases. They could have been playing badminton over his sleeping body and who would have known?**

**It could also be familiarity with the scent that left him sleeping. Both Marius and Armand are familiar with Santino's scent. Marius was pulled from the ice by Santino, they went to burn Armand's ashy leavings together. Armand spent many decades with Santino, and remembers his scent that way. So there are a lot of factors that could explain the writing. It makes sense if you look at it that way, and it's not that much of an artistic licence that I am taking with it. I don't think I want to go and artistic licence this fic, as it could have really happened in between novels, maybe, possibly, somehow. I want this one to slot into the storyline of blood and gold somehow, so I'll see if I can wrangle it that way.**

**Note from the author is over, now hopefully you can proceed through my story with the confidence that you are in good hands. The next chapter will be arriving shortly to your screens, and until then, enjoy your flight.**


	8. Umbrella's and runaways

Marius was having the most terrible dream.

_He was dreaming of the time when Santino and his wretches had snatched from him his Amadeo, to do with him as they pleased. _

_The coven of dark eyed revenants circled the panicked boy. Santino pressed forward, holding something bright in his hands. It was a frilly pink dress. _

"_Put it on, little girl. For little girls wear dresses do they not? Put on the dress and join us."_

"_No! I'm not a girl. I won't wear a dress. You can't make me do this. Stop!"_

"_But we can make you do this. Your master is not here to save you now."_

_The circle of Satan worshippers stepped closer to Amadeo, chanting "Wear the dress, Wear the dress.". Amadeo held his hands out in front of him, protesting. Santino's face shone in the candle light. _

"_Who can stop us? You will join us, you have no choice."_

"_No!" Amadeo cried out. "No, I won't do it. I won't join you. Stop. Help!"_

_Amadeo disappeared underneath a pile of Satan worshippers and pink lacy frills. Santino's maniacal laughter echoed in Marius's ears. From the pile, Amadeo's hand reached out, his final words could be heard, a plaintative wailing that reverberated in his master's brain. _

"_MARIUS!!!"_

"Uargh!" Marius woke with a jolt, his eyes snapping open. He was staring up at the decorated canopy on the four poster bed he went to rest in. The room was still. Quiet. Safe. Marius sighed. What a ridiculous dream. Amadeo never wore a dress. Or did he, Marius thought worriedly. He rolled over in the bed to look at his fledgling as he always did, Marius being the early riser that he is, and Amadeo favouring sleep in's unless there was something interesting to do. The perpetual teenager. Usually after such an abrupt awakening as this, Marius would wake his fledgling and feel calmed by the sleepy laughter of his child, the understanding nature of his child, nurtured by an empathy from having numerous nightmares of his own. Marius rolled over to reach for Amadeo, but instead his hand came down through empty air.

Amadeo was gone. Marius looked blankly at the bed, sheets ruffled and thrown to the left, making obvious the indent of his child's shape in the pillows. Gone? Marius sniffed, then reared up from the bed, his eyes wild. The smell of vampire and blood lingered on the pillow. Human blood. But both the human and vampire scents were familiar. Marius raced from the bedchamber, his adrenaline (if he had any – he thought to himself) pumping, and ran straight into a very distraught Daniel, who had been racing to the chamber of his own design.

Daniel bumped back from Marius, then, recognising the ancient grabbed his sleeve with trembling hands.

"Marius! Marius, please, you have to help me!"

Marius firmly gripped Daniel's shoulders, and looking frantically over his head, addressed him.

"Not now Daniel. Something very important, very dangerous –"

"But that's just it! Marius, please. They're all dead!"

"What?!"

He looked seriously at Daniel for the first time. His face was streaked with dried blood tears. His eyes were full of sadness and fear. Marius immediately thought the worst.

"Where is Amadeo?"

"You mean he's not with you?"

"Damnit!"

Together they rushed out to the living room, Daniel following Marius, and stopped rapidly when seeing the sight before them. The living room was a mess. Lamps were upturned. The coffee table had split in two. The bookshelves and desks were overturned. The balcony doors were wide open and one was ripped from its hinges.

Louis and Lestat walked into the living room from the hall doors. Lestat looked about in surprise, while Louis gasped at the sight before him.

"What on earth -?" Lestat began. He stopped and looked out the balcony as did the others, for a faint cry interrupted his sentence. They rushed to the balcony and looked out. Past the gardens and across the beach, seen through the many pairs of keen vampire eyes, a struggle between two vampires was occurring on the sand. The smaller vampire was struggling to be away from the larger one who held him by the wrist as he tried to run. The large vampire pulled him in by his wrist and threw him over his shoulder, as he made to run away with him, the smaller vampire's kicking legs slowing their progress somewhat.

The four vampires from the balcony rapidly made chase across the dunes. About a mile away from them it seemed the taller vampire fell down onto the sand, one of the kicks having landed. The smaller vampire, Armand, for that was who it was scrabbled away, but Santino's strong hand clamped around his ankle.

"I gave you the chance to come quietly, and you saw where that lead. Don't kick me again, or you will force my hand and I will drain you. I am stronger than you now, and I can do it if I must."

Armand struggled and kicked Santino in the face. This angered Santino, but he did not release his grip on Armand's ankle. His strong arm pulled Armand through the sand by his leg, bringing him underneath Santino's lanky frame.

"No! Don't, please, let me go!"

"My blood has been made strong by one whose favour I earned. I need never let you go again. As you kicked me, it is now time for you to go to sleep!"

Santino's hands shot to Armand's neck. Armand screamed in fear, as he felt Santino's cold hands encircle his throat. Then suddenly they withdrew. Armand looked up to see Lestat holding Santino by the scruff of the neck, his fangs bared near his neck. Louis and Daniel each held back one of his hands while Marius stood at the ready, his hands curled into claws.

"I wouldn't, if I were you." Lestat hissed in Santino's ear.

Armand edged out from underneath Santino, scrambling across the sand. He ran to his master and hugged his back, and then stood behind him, looking around his strong frame to the pinioned vampire.

"You fiend." Marius whispered at Santino.

"Marius," he laughed. "Marius, would that I could have tasted your child now, your anger would be worth it."

"You think you do not deserve my anger now?" he scowled.

"What were you doing?" Lestat growled in Santino's ear. "That you think you would even touch one hair of his head and get away with it?"

"I was getting away with it," Santino smiled dreamily at Lestat's menacing face. "Your Amadeo's blood is weak in comparison with the blood Maharet gave me, the blood that powers me still."

He tugged his arms from the hands of Louis and Daniel then, proving his claim. His free hands grabbed Lestat by the wrist and slowly struggled against his grip. Lestat gasped with shock, feeling the raw power of Santino's hands as he slowly detached Lestat's fingers from his neck.

Lestat's hands fought back as he pushed to secure Santino's neck once more. He just about managed it.

"We are matched, vampire Lestat. I would be as strong as you too, Marius de Romanus." Santino jeered at Marius, whose hand was holding Armand's behind his back.

"I would easily kill you." Marius said through gritted teeth.

"My last request then." Santino smiled and beckoned Armand with childish grasping movements.

"Stop this madness." Armand replied, standing to the side of his master. "No one needs to die."

"Amadeo, how can you say this?" Marius frowned on him. "He would have wounded you."

"Be assured, Armand, that we could kill him with not a scratch to our bodies." Lestat assured him.

Louis looked into Armand's face. His expression was one of anxiety, disgust and compassion, all rolled into one. Louis was amazed that Armand would hold this view. Louis had seen him destroy whole covens of recalcitrant vampires without batting an eye. What was one death to him?

"Oh yes," Santino laughed. "You could try that path and see where it takes you. I won't go quietly. I will take at least one of you down with me."

"You can try!" Daniel hissed.

"No. Don't kill him." Armand stated. Marius looked on his fledgling as if his heart were breaking. "Don't kill him. It is nothing. Nothing."

Lestat looked on Armand with anger and confusion. "Why spare him? He would have killed you, and worse. Don't be a stupid little martyr Armand. This proves nothing."

"I'm not a martyr! If you kill him, you will die!"

With this, Marius flew into a rage. He gripped Armand by the shoulders and shook him.

"And why is that? Would you fight for him? After all he is done? You would go to him, with what he had planned for you? You little fool, for believing any of his lies. He is a killer, Armand. And we kill the killers."

"And what? That makes us killers too? And no, I don't believe him. I would not fight for him, so why are you fighting me?!"

"The face," Santino drawled, "Of your master is finally revealed, little one. For all their civil airs they are nothing but savages."

"Shut up!" Armand threw his hands in the air. He turned to face Santino. "Don't call me little one, don't talk about them, don't talk to me! God! Why did you bother?"

Santino's smile dropped.

"Bother...?"

"Just go away! I don't want to see you!"

"But –"

"We could kill him for you, if you like, Armand." Lestat said with a sinister smile.

"No, you idiot! You're not killing anyone! He's Maharet's consort! Are you blind?"

Lestat stopped suddenly. Of course. He drank Maharet's blood, hence his strength and his arrogance. Of course, Armand wants to stop us, so the queen doesn't come back and kill us all.

Santino's eyes widened.

"No, you cannot kill me. It is true." He laughed. "You cannot kill me! Ha ha!"

"Shut up." Armand said as he punched Santino in the face. He stalked back up to the mansion.

"Armand! Where are you going?" Lestat called after him. Santino gingerly rubbed his jaw, sitting in the sand and watching the youthful vampire walk away.

"Away from here!" He yelled. "This is crazy. You're all crazy! I need a vacation."

"Armand!" Lestat, Daniel, Louis and Marius all ran after him. Santino sat still in the sand, watching them go.

"Stop chasing me! All of you! Leave me alone." Armand shouted up at his taller companions.

"Armand." Daniel whispered. "But, he killed them! He killed them all. What do I -?"

"You sort it out. God knows it's not my problem."

"Armand." Lestat said, chiding.

"Amadeo..." Marius said to him. Armand looked away. Anywhere but his master's face.

"Amadeo, no. Look at me!" Marius said, holding Armand's head and turning it towards him.

"Is it – is it him? Is it us?"

"No, it's just – no. I just – I need to be alone." He couldn't bear to look at his master's saddened face. He wanted to get out of there. He hated that his old life caught up with him. That it would taint the happy life he had now. But he was getting too comfortable. Too attached. And then someone would come and try to use the people he loved against him. As always. Or maybe he was being dramatic. He just didn't want to be around others now.

"Call me if you hear from Sybelle and Benji."

With that Armand disappeared into the night. Marius stood in front of empty air, holding nothing.

Lestat looked up to the sky, trying to trace Armand's mode of departure. He could never ask him himself, but he was still curious. Daniel stared at the space where Armand was as well, at a loss as how to help the security guards who lost their lives. He fell to his knees, sobbing.

Louis placed a sympathetic hand on Marius's shoulder.

"Marius, are you alright?"

Marius looked at Louis for a moment and sighed. Then expression lit his face again. He circled around and stomped through the sand to stand in front of Santino.

"I hate you." He said.

"I know." Santino replied. "But you can't kill me now. I have Maharet's protection."

"I know." Marius paused. Seething.

"I will see you die. Know this. I will do all that is in my power to see you killed. And soon."

"You can't kill me. I have Maharet's protection."

"Then she will help me do it." Marius looked fiercely into Santino's black eyes. He could see the fear creep into them when he realised the possibility of this.

Santino stood abruptly. He swerved around and walked through the sand, away from the group of angry and bewildered vampires. He reached the peak of the dunes where the beach hit the road. He looked over his shoulder to Marius.

"I do not wish to see you again." He said.

"When you do next see me, it will signal your doom."

Santino ran off into the night. His speeded movements made clumsy by his lack of practise. The power he assumed was no match for the power learned by the ancients over the centuries. It was likely that Santino couldn't perceive even half of what he was now capable of.

Marius watched him go. He walked back over to the assembled vampires who stood standing on the beach. He pulled Daniel up out of the sand.

"Come on Danny. We're leaving this place."

Daniel looked desperately into Marius's eyes. Marius looked into his mind. He was torn up, distraught by the injustice done to the guards. The lack of humanity that he associated with us inhuman creatures. This was the last wretched straw for Danny. He could no longer overlook the monstrous side of vampirism. He now hated himself, and he blamed Santino, he blamed Marius, he blamed Armand. He blamed him, and hated himself for loving him, as he still did.

Marius tugged Daniel to his feet.

Louis stepped forward. "But, where are you going? Why?"

"I seek a solitude of my own now child. I will take this one with me, as he is now in dire need of company himself. You will be fine. Santino will not bother you. Send a call out to me if you hear from Armand."

Lestat stepped forward. He placed his arm around Louis's shoulder.

"If you need any help with Santino, give me a call. Louis. We'd best be off too."

Louis looked at Lestat, a million questions on his tongue. He was distracted however, by the ancient vampire's sudden departure. Marius wound his arm round Daniel's waist and nodded at the two vampires.

"Farewell." He jettisoned off into the sky with Daniel in tow. Louis weaker eyes could not follow his ascent but Lestat caught them veering east. Most likely to one of Marius's European castles. Lestat patted Louis's shoulder.

"Come on Chere, the fun bit's over."

"Fun bit? What part of that was fun, 'Stat?"

"You know, the ... dramatic chasing bit. The cloak and dagger. The fight scene. All that stuff."

Louis gave Lestat a level look.

"Alright. I'm sorry. I found none of that adventurous stuff fun. I only listen to my beloved Louis and everything else just isn't fun. No fun at all."

Louis elbowed Lestat in the ribs and walked away from him, back towards the manor. Out of the blue Lestat was in front of Louis, blocking his path.

"Where are you going, Chere?" Lestat asked.

Louis blinked. "To the manor. You said we'd best be off, off home."

"I don't want to spend time in that dreary empty mansion. Let's go to our home."

"To Rue Royale?"

Lestat wrapped his arms around his fledgling's waist and stepped close to him. Their noses practically touching.

"Mmm hmm. I miss Mojo."

"You always miss Mojo."

"Why don't you like my puppy?"

"Puppy! He's nearly as big as I am!"

"So are a lot of things. Large Umbrella's."

"Stop it."

"Cosy armchairs."

"I'm not an umbrella or an armchair!"

"No, but you're cosy." Lestat said, winking. He lifted his feet slightly off the ground, his preternatural flight inching slowly up by three feet.

"Oh, no. I don't like this." Louis said as he looked to the fading ground.

"Then close your eyes Chere. And think of home."

**So there is the wrap up of this long chapter. It is not the last chapter, calm down. And before you go off thinking "Oh how hideous, this isn't Armand and Lestat fighting at all. They've all gone their separate ways." Please, be reassured. It will get back to that. I just wove a little story into the mix, explained a few loose ends in narrative format. For all those despairing for the future of the story, a little preview is in order. Six months later in Rue Royale, guess who shows up on Lestat's door flirting with the little old lady who keeps Mojo on the ground floor. I have plotted out the ensuing hilarity for chapters to come, so be cheerful. Be merry. And be reviewing. Oh what an effort. **


	9. Mojo, Snakes and Senility

_SIX MONTHS LATER_

_RUE ROYALE_

Lestat and Louis sat nestled on the silvery damask camelback sofa watching a film on the wide screen plasma television. One of the more modern additions to their antique-in-many-ways newly restored apartment. Louis watched the film, intent as he always was in the tense parts, with wide unblinking eyes. Lestat smirked at his fledgling's face every so often, switching his focus between Louis and the film when it suited him. Usually to spook him, or do the tired routine of the fake yawn shoulder stretch that amused Lestat to no end and annoyed Louis greatly.

"I hate snakes!" Indie cried up at his Arabic companion.

"See, now I'm rather fond of snakes, Louis. They are so smooth and slimy. Hilarious!"

"Shhh! He's about to go into the tomb!"

"So what! We go into tombs all the time. And it's not even a tomb. It's a well."

"The well of souls." Louis said in a reverent voice.

"The well of snakes too, apparently."

The cobra flared its collar and froze the gallant archaeologist in its deadly gaze. Jones slowly drew up, as his Arabic friend slid down the rope behind him with a can of gasoline.

"Ohhh!" Louis exclaimed. "I see. He's going to burn the snakes."

Lestat flashed a worried look on his fledgling's eager expression. Louis noted this and looked sheepishly at the blonde vampire.

"What? It's a clever idea, that's all."

"Chere, sometimes you frighten me."

Jones splashed the flammable liquid over the snakes. Lestat leaned into his fledgling and stage whispered to him.

"Don't worry. They are trained snakes. Or what was it? No snakes were harmed in the making of this film."

Jones lit the gas and the snakes set alight. Louis smiled. "I don't think too many snakes would enjoy a roasting like that."

"No," Lestat murmured. "I doubt they would."

They sat in silence for a while, watching the actors finally reach their goal. The Ark of the Covenant. Sliding the ark into the wooden crate, the archaeologists cinched the crate towards the top of the well.

The doorbell rang. Lestat looked up.

"Now what is this? I told the staff not to ring the bell 'cept in emergencies. No, you stay there Louis, watch the film. I'll get it."

Louis needed no second reassurance. His eyes were still glued to the screen. Lestat rolled his eyes, as he could hear Louis exclaim to the screen. "Watch out for the Nazi's!" Louis was just fine.

Lestat strode towards the door of the apartment. He tossed his hair over his shoulders and fluffed it with his hands in several deft moves. He always preened upon opening his door to strangers, even if it was just the old lady on the ground floor who minded Mojo. He loved the feeling of dazzling them utterly. The bell rang once more, which made Lestat laugh in a way. Of course they can't wait to see me. He opened the door with a swish of his arm.

"Hello –"

To Lestat's surprise, there was no one there in his line of sight.

"Hi Lestat." He heard from lower down on the ground. Sitting on the floor in front of Lestat's door was the small vampire, Armand. He had his arms wrapped around Mojo, the fluffy German Sheppard, who kissed Armand's smooth white face with its pink tongue. Armand smiled and patted his thick fur.

"Long time no see." Armand smiled, both at the colloquialism of the term and the affection of Lestat's dog.

"Not nearly long enough." Lestat quipped. Then he acknowledged the other person in the hall. It was the woman who minded Mojo on the ground floor.

"Mr Lioncourt. I don't mean to be a bother, but this poor boy tells me he is in some terrible danger. He says he knows you, and that you can help him. Oh, please take him in. He's an incredibly polite young man. And Mojo seems to like him."

The woman smiled a crinkly eyed smile at the dog and the boy. Animal lovers were so incredibly bizarre at times, Lestat thought to himself.

"Lucinda, you must understand dear, that you cannot let every teenager who wants to see me up to my apartment. Why, I would have no peace and quiet."

Armand laughed to himself, as he scratched behind Mojo's ears.

"Oh, Mr Lestat. He'll be no bother at all. He assured me himself." Lucinda paused suddenly. "Oh, did I do something wrong, Mr Lioncourt? You do know this boy?"

Armand stood up. "Don't worry Lucy, he knows me alright." Mojo paced past Lestat's legs and slunk into the room. From the door Louis could be heard.

"Oh! Mojo, you scared me. I thought you were a snake!"

Armand raised his eyebrow at Lestat. Lestat groaned.

"Argh, fine. You can come in. Mon Dieu!"

"Thanks Lucinda. No it's fine, really. Ok. Ok, Goodbye." Lestat assured the old lady and ushered her back to the lift, opening the door for her. Armand waved.

"Oh, goodbye dear! See you later!" Lucinda called out to him in her scratchy voice. The elevator doors closed over the old lady's chatter, as she descended from sight. Her high voice was gone.

Armand nodded and waved at all the right times, but when the doors closed and slid down the shaft, Armand turned to Lestat.

"I think she's senile."

"I think you're senile."

"Look whose talking old man. I see a few little, uh, crow's feet up around the eyes. Feeling your age, eh?"

"I don't have crow's feet." Lestat murmured to himself and turned to the hall mirror to examine his face.

"Suit yourself." Armand waved his hand absentmindedly and walked in the apartment door. Lestat did a double take and followed him in.

"You know, you can't just waltz in here and act like you own the place." Lestat leaned on the door scowling at Armand.

Armand turned around and bowed.

"Alright. No more waltzing." Armand smiled.

"You call that the waltz?"

"No, I never called it the waltz. Maybe you didn't hear that, because you are senile."

"Enough with the senile!"Lestat threw his arms in the air. "God, you're annoying!"

Armand sat himself down in Louis's chair by the antique desk in the apartment study.

"This is a nice chair." Armand said, examining it.

Lestat put his hand to his forehead. Rubbing his temples he looked up at Armand.

"You are here. I know that you're here. Why are you here? You are – and why were you patting Mojo??!"

"He likes me. You have a very nice dog, Lestat. And very hospitable neighbours. Thank you for that."

Lestat rolled his eyes. Armand's words then reminded him of something.

"Lucinda, Lucinda said you were in some kind of danger." Lestat saw Armand's smile fade a little. "Care to explain?"

"I need a place to stay."

"Why." Armand scowled at Lestat.

"Can I stay here or no?"

"You have to tell me why first. I'm not letting you in without knowing what kind of danger you are bringing in with you."

Armand sighed. He looked away from Lestat out the apartment window, gazing out at the view of the banana leaves.

"I'm being followed by Santino. I last saw him in Russia, but that was three weeks ago. He's been following me since back at the manor."

"But, why can't you shake him? Can't you block him out?"

"I've been blocking him out. Everyone out, so he can't sneak in. But he's using human sources to find me. Every time I leave a place, another human finds me. I can't go out in public without someone calling his informants."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait, Wheyyt!"Lestat held his hand up. "He has humans tracking you? How does he even do that?"

Armand scowled. "He has me registered as a missing child."

There was a pause. Then Lestat burst out laughing.

"Hah hah, oh ho! Oh, that's just too good. Ohhh!"

"No, it's NOT too good." Armand slammed his hand down on the desk. "I can't safely sleep of a daytime now! A human sees me of a night time, and then they're digging me up of a day. I was nearly burnt twice!"

"Ha hah ha! Hoooo, sorry Armand. But you know, if you keep acting like a stressy teenager, it's only a matter of time before someone spots you again."

"Stop laughing. It isn't funny. I need your help."

Lestat turned to Armand, his hand on his chin. He had twisted his face into the resemblance of a serious expression. The only thing that ruined the effect was how his mouth twitched upwards every so often.

"I apologize Armand. Do go on."

Armand gave Lestat a suspicious look. He sighed.

"Can I stay with you, at least for a while, until he goes away? It's not safe for me alone of a daytime, and now it's like I need help of a night as well. Can I stay here?"

Lestat smiled. "What exactly do you want of me? Ask me now, and include everything that you might want."

"What? You won't let me stay? You stayed in my house!"

"No, just tell me what you want from this."

"No. Why do this to me? Purposefully humiliate me?"

"No, just tell me what you want!"

Lestat and Armand stared at each other, conflict raging in the space between them. Armand sneered.

"Louis."He said. Lestat banged his arm on the door frame and leant his forehead on the wall.

Armand called out again, louder. "LOUIS!"

"Oh my gosh, it's the ark! Oh, the commander is going down. Eurgh, how horrible."

"LOUIS!" he walked out of the study toward the living room.

"Armand, no!" Lestat called out reaching to grab the hem of Armand's coat. Armand slipped past him and into the living room.

"Louis."

"Oh, Armand. I didn't know you were here." Louis smiled up at him and Armand smiled sweetly back.

"Yes, I'll be staying here for a while too. What film are you watching?"

"Armand, nooo!" Lestat groaned from the doorway.

"Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. It's near the end now."

"Ohhh, I love the ending."

"Have you seen it before?"

"Yes, I have actually. I'm rather fond of it."

"NO, No, no, no, no, non, nooooooooooon!" Lestat sobbed theatrically from the doorway.

"Lestat," Louis turned to face him. "Armand needs a place to stay, and we have more than enough room. We owe him, and of course we can't have him out there with Santino about. Besides, I thought you wanted a fight with Santino again?"

"Yeeeessss, but Armand is annoying!"

"So are you. He's staying. Now be quiet, we want to watch the end of the film."

"Yes Lestat. The end is my favourite part. So please shut up."

Lestat leant over the couch, pouting and putting on his best puppy dog eyes at Louis. Mojo gave him a look. As if to say "You call them puppy dog eyes?".

Louis and Armand sat on the couch, stoutly ignoring Lestat.

The major and Jones were discussing the fate of the ark. Armand smiled and quoted the words in time with the film.

"We have top men working on it now. Who? Top...Men."

"Now that is annoying!" Lestat drawled.

"You know what a pleasant thought is. If it were you in one of those many crates, Lestat."

Louis sighed. He patted Mojo on the head.

"Oh Mojo, this is getting ridiculous."

"Then send him away then!" Lestat yelled.

"I need a place to stay! Please! Louis already said it was ok."

"It's ok if you are good to Lestat, and Lestat, he'll only go if he is not good to you."

"Louis!!"

"And if you're not good to him then you'll go."

Armand snuggled closer to Louis on the couch.

"I can live with that." He smiled.

Lestat pouted. "Yeah. Whatever, man." His modern slang was his barricade, through which he could irritate Louis. Louis never liked it when Lestat spoke in slang.

The credits began to roll. Lestat frowned, and in his mind he was fighting a war. He was trying to push through the blockade in Armand's mind to talk to him, and find out exactly what his motivation was. He forced his mind against Armand's and saw nothing, only a long dark corridor, at the end of which was a brick wall.

Behind the brick wall, Armand felt the push of Lestat, and was struggling to control his thoughts. _What do you want, he asks me_. Armand was offended_. He shouldn't have asked this of me._

Lestat pushed again at the barrier.

"Lestat, stop it. You are not getting in."

Louis looked curiously between the strained expressions of both vampires. He stood up.

"Mojo and I better be skewtin'..." Lestat smirked at his fledgling's phrasing. It started as a slip of the tongue in idle conversation between the two, and now was a little inside joke that they shared. Lestat knew Louis was going to go hunt. He always waited til the edge of the night, when the night reached the morning. He didn't like to upset himself with the hunt when he just woke up, so he waited til the dawn hours so the memories wouldn't linger through the evening.

"Skewt away, Môn Chere. But hurry back." Lestat smiled his prettiest smile.

"Oh no," Louis said as he shook his head. "You two have to sort out your problems. I'm not stepping into that mine field. It's none of my business."

"But Chere! You invited him here!"

"No, actually, he invited himself, but think how often you invited yourself to Night Island. You can't be rude like this." Lestat pouted, but in his head he loved how Louis made his little efforts to keep Lestat civilized. Well mannered and all.

"You were both always welcome at the night island." Armand chimed in from the couch.

"Welcome to a complementary blue rinse too, apparently." Lestat muttered.

"Well you can't say it didn't complement your eyes." Armand smiled at him.

"You little bastard!" Lestat snarled at him. "I'd worked years on those memoirs!"

Louis slipped a collar on Mojo and scurried out to the front door. "Alright! You two have fun! Don't break anything! See you later! Bye!"

The door slammed shut behind him. Lestat could hear Louis locking the door. As if that would do anything.

Armand reclined in the couch, putting his feet up.

"You know, we get along pretty good when Louis's not here."

Lestat threw a look to Armand and walked to the television set.

"It's not that I don't like Louis, don't get me wrong, Louis offers some of the most wonderful company," Armand smiled indulgently. Lestat was packing away the DVDs and shutting them up in the wood panelled cabinet with a little too much force. "But us, you and I, we seem to... co-exist better, more peaceably when Louis goes away."

Lestat said nothing, but continued to shut the cabinet doors and pull the sliding wood panel out from its slot in the wall til it fell down to cover the TV screen.

"That happens a lot though," Armand continued to talk. "Danny and Marius aren't always so good together, but they are much better company separately. And the same could be said for Louis and I when you are away."

"How do you propose to manage that then, when you intend on sharing my airspace for the next, however long, and stay with Louis too?" Lestat scowled.

Armand seemed to understand what Lestat meant. He smiled again and began examining his nails.

"Oh, I'm sure we'll each pick our favourites."

When Armand looked up, Lestat was leaning over him from the side of the couch, where he sat next to Armand.

"And you think that we'd pick you? You little imp? When you are such a nuisance to us? Is this what you came to do? To continue this stupid plan of yours that makes me miserable, and makes you a wedge between Louis and me? And makes me hate you? Is that what you want?"

Armand looked calmly into Lestat's face. It was very close to Armand's. Lestat's eyes were fierce and burning icily into Armand's warm brown orbs. He leaned forward, closer to Lestat and kissed him on the lips.

Lestat immediately began kissing him back, pushing into the kiss, pressing himself up against the tiny vampire, then drew away. His eyes were confused, and he only drew partly back, he was still very close to Armand.

Armand looked curiously up at Lestat. The blonde vampire focused his gaze on Armand.

"What do you want of me?" He asked Armand with a soft smile.

"Argh!" Armand groaned. "Not this again!" He tried to push away from Lestat and get off the couch. Lestat's arms now became his prison bars as he was trapped in the powerful company of the blonde above him.

"Look, just tell me, and you can stay."

"No, this is unfair! It's like you asking me to beg to stay with you. You don't ask people to ask, it's high handed."

"But I want to know, I need to know."

"Oh, how do you need to know?"

"Well, what if you wanted some special protection. Or a fancy bed, or blue paint – which you won't be receiving, athankyou – I'd have to know to get it for you."

"That is not why you ask, and you know it. I won't be forced to grovel for your help."

"It's not grovelling. You just have to tell me! What do you want?"

"Just drop it. It's not fair. You didn't ask Louis this before he lived here."

"I burnt up Louis house before he lived here. He is exempt from this kind of thing."

"Is that some sort of criteria then? Do you need to burn a house of mine before I can live with you?"

"No, that was different."

"Because you can do it, if that will make you drop this. I'll go, I'll literally go and buy a house up the street and you can go nuts with it. Destroy it. I'll even purchase the gasoline and explosives."

"I won't burn a house of yours. There is no free pass with that."

"These are such double standards Lestat. You are being deliberately difficult with me."

"I never said I would be fair."

Armand scowled. "Well, I never said I would beg for my stay."

"It's not begging, just tell me what you want!"

"It's not fair!"

"Just tell me."

"But it's not fair!"

"Tell me what you want!" Lestat roared.

"I want you to leave me alone!" Armand shouted back. Then he snapped, and it was as if the dam of his thoughts broke and all his frustration and fear was flowing free and fast.

"I want a place to stay where I won't be killed of a daytime. I want humans to stop calling me into child services. I want you to stop yelling at me. I want to stay with you and Louis. I want my past to stop following me. I want this whole mess to be cleared up. I want the people in my life to be safe from Santino. I want Santino to stop stalking me. I want you to shut up and be my friend for just a moment so you can protect me. I want you to keep me with you where I won't be followed by Santino. I want him to leave me alone. And I want you to let me stay here with you so I'll have some way to stay safe from him. And if you want me to beg for this on your trite little list as well, I hope it's not too much to want you to help and stop Santino from raping and killing me!"

Lestat was dumbstruck. Armand's face was stubborn with his anger, but his lower lip was trembling as he admitted all that scared him and all that threatened him. Lestat was quiet for a second. Then he looked at Armand and said.

"Well, if that's all that you wanted."

Armand fell forward to wrap his arms around Lestat as his sobs broke through the control he had kept. Stupid Lestat, Armand thought, as he half laughed, half sobbed into Lestat's chest. Lestat patted Armand's silken curls and hugged him, comforted him.

"You silly child." Lestat laughed softly. "You worry so much. You're so brave. But this is a lot. This is a heck of a lot to cope with. I would have snapped before now."

"No," Murmured Armand. "You would have confronted him and had some terrible adventure and you'd already be adding it to your memoirs by now."

"You think too well of me. You are already doing better than I ever would have done, but it's fine for you to be scared by this. You're just a child."

"I'm not a child. I'm 300 years older than you."

"No, you are definitely still a child."Lestat smiled and nudged Armand with his elbow. "Or what is it they are called these days, a teenager? A sulky teenager, that's right."

"You're the child." Armand rolled his eyes and pushed away from Lestat.

"What-ever, man!" Lestat mocked. "What ever, G. You no home skillet."

"Do you even know what you say when you speak, or does it just fall out of your mouth while your brain goes off hiking or something?" Armand commented, his voice dripping with sarcasm, one eyebrow raised. Lestat didn't care. He was off. He was having too much fun.

"Me and my homies will totally come and staunch you, square. Don't go talkin' none o that BS, that's your MO. Fo shiz."

Armand started laughing. "What teenagers have you been listening to?"

"Step off, Nigel. I is what I is. Fo shizzle my nizzle."

Armand laughed. Lestat laughed. They were still laughing when Louis walked in the door. Mojo ran up to Lestat.

"What's up, dawg!" Lestat shouted, patting Mojo's ears affectionately. Armand was laughing uncontrollably, he looked for all the world like a joking schoolboy, par for the blood tears that pooled around his eyes.

"I take it you two have resolved your problems." Louis said with a soft smile.

"L-to-the-ouis!" Lestat jumped up and went to shake Louis's hand, gangster style. Mon Dieu. "Long time no see!"

Louis wrinkled his nose at the street slang. He struggled with the handshake and ended up side stepping the entire movement.

"So, Armand is staying then?" Louis asked.

Armand smiled from the couch and tried to compose himself for a moment, he held his giggles at bay.

"Ah, yes Louis. Lestat said (ppft) Lestat said it was ok. (pffft!)" He giggled behind his hand for another moment, and exchanged a look with Lestat. The words slipped out of his mouth and set off another laughing fit.

"We'll have a bitchin' time!"

Lestat crowed jubilantly and reached over to hi-five Armand.

"Score!"

Louis put one hand to his forehead. "I think I preferred the fighting."

Armand and Lestat then began some complicated handshake of sorts. Louis rolled his eyes. "Read a book for god's sake! I'm going to bed."

He trudged off, muttering adult sounding phrases that belonged in the fifties, such as "Kids these days" and "It's all this television they watch.".

Armand smiled. He was the happiest he had been in a long time. He was so relieved that he could relax now without having to look over his shoulder or hold his guard up. And it was always such fun to fight with Lestat.

He yawned and stretched and tugged Lestat's hair. "I'm going to sleep now. Have you a light proof room for me?"

Lestat nodded and pointed to a door at the end of the corridor. He followed Armand through and they both settled into their respective beds. The sun came up, and Armand slept soundly for once.

**Well well well. Here is the chapter after our dramatic finish. The next chapter is in the pipeline also, so don't fret. And you may be wondering, what happened to all those loose ends you left, Felice? What happened to Marius, what happened to Danny, and Santino? What happened to night island, or the dead body guards? Well, a lot can happen in six months, and be assured that I haven't forgotten them. All will be revealed in time. Til then, enjoy, tell me what you think, what you want to see, and what you liked. Review, and I'll post the next chapter soon!**


	10. Two words Sing Star

Lestat sang as the torrent of warm water pounded down his back.

"We are your children, but what do you give us? Is your silence a better gift than truuuth?"

He considered hot showers one of the human luxuries he could be afforded in his modern day wealth. Lestat adored his shower, and every night, or at least as often as he could, he would hop in, soap down, and sing with reckless abandon as the warm water relaxed his muscles and his mind.

"Into the light we come, my brothers and sisters! Kill us, my brothers and sisters!"

Lestat washed his face under the falling heated liquid. He ran his fingers through his hair, opened his mouth wide to let the water fill it and spill over. He continued singing, gurgling as he went.

"Les innocents is over, and your innocence I cast away. Your evil you should cover, with lace and gloves at masquerade! Ohhhh, Am I not the devil in you all?"

The sound of the water and his own voice filled his ears. That shampoo that scented his hair filled his nose with the smell. He tasted the water, the mineral tang of it was made all the more strong by the heat. The tiles were cold, hard, smooth, such that they seemed indistinguishable from his body. His eyes were closed as the water washed over them. He felt a peaceful pleasure. A great happiness in this simple act of singing in the shower. He turned off the taps but kept singing.

"Am I not the evil for this time? Your little rituals may fall, but the blood's the same in your veins as in mine." He wrapped a large fluffy white towel around his waist and draped another round his head. He tucked the towel around his waist in a knot. Ruffling the towel around his hair, Lestat stepped out of the shower and opened the bathroom door.

"Into the light we come, my brothers and sisters! Kill us, my brothers and sisters!"

"Yes, well maybe later, but first I'd like to use the shower please."

"Argh!" Lestat jumped and pulled the towel from out of his face. "Armand, how long have you been there?"

"Long enough. I hate that song. Do you mind moving, I want a shower. I've got all this salt and sweat all over me, it's really unpleasant."

"What, you've just been standing outside the door, waiting for me to get out. You should have told me I had an audience, that way I could at least take a bow."

"You might want to change out of that towel first, and there really is no need. I am in no hurry to listen to you sing that song again."

Lestat looked down to adjust his towel. Armand took this opportunity to brush past him and claim the bathroom as his own. He slammed the door shut and Lestat turned and banged on the door.

"I've left my hair stuff in there. And why don't you like my song? I wrote it about you."

"I can't believe you have only one bathroom, with the amount of hair products that you have. How does Louis even get to a mirror?"

Lestat rolled his eyes. "I have more than one mirror in the house."

"Of course you do."

Lestat tapped his nails on the door frame.

"I'll have to get my stuff later, won't I?"

"That would be nice." Armand called out. The sound of the tap turning on could be heard from the other door.

"I'm a good singer, you know!" Lestat called out.

"Yes, but you're a horrible mime." Armand called back.

Lestat banged on the door frame once more, then walked off, singing the rest of his song as loud as he could.

"Into the light, to wash off the dust. Your gorgeous curls the colour of rust. The innocent darkness and naivety, kiss it away to uncover the beauty. I am the evil for this age. Gentleman death in silk and lace!"

Armand sang loudly from the shower to try to drown out the noise.

"La la la la la la laaaa, I can't hear you, and it's just so lovely. I could be listening to much nicer things, like the screech of car tyres, or the scrape of nails on a blackboard. La la la la la!"

Lestat stormed off to get dressed in his room.

-

Louis walked into the lounge room where Lestat and Armand sat with their arms crossed on opposite couches.

"What was that lovely racquet this morning?" He asked.

"What do you mean, lovely? This brat's wailing?" Armand grumbled.

"Yes, I'm the lovely, and you're the racquet." Lestat rebuked with a smirk.

"Actually, I thought you were both pretty good." Louis remarked with a smile. "Just very loud."

Lestat stood up and dramatically threw his hands in the air. His actions demonstrated anger, but Louis could tell it was mainly humour fuelling Lestat in this, his most recent crusade.

"Louis! How could you? You know I am the singer in this house, and that is how it will stay, thank you very much!"

"I wasn't even trying, really." Armand humbly muttered, casting the challenge out to Lestat subversively. "I've never really done much singing, not since I was mortal, actually."

"Well, I thought you were very good." Louis smiled. "You know, you two should play that singstar game. Lestat's been looking for someone to verse on it."

"Yes, but that's only because you won't play it with me, Chere."

"I just don't think I'm very good. You're the singer in this house, 'Stat."

"We had that singstar in the manor." Armand piped up. "We bought it for you, Lestat, but you never used it."

"I have my own, here. My Rue Royale stage theatre!"

"You have a theatre?" Armand asked curiously.

"No," Louis explained. "He just calls it that. It's more of a theatre of the living room, actually."

"Theatre of the round!"

"Why don't you sing, Louis?" Armand asked in his gentlest voice. "I bet you'd be a wonderful singer."

"Oh, no. I prefer to watch, or listen. You two should play though."

"And you will be the judge?" Lestat smiled at Louis.

"The machine judges you, doesn't it? I'll just be the one to keep you both fair."

Lestat scoffed. "Mon Dieu Louis, how could you think we'd be anything but?"

"Alright, how do you play?" Armand posited.

Louis, Lestat and Armand all sat together then and discussed the rules and function of singstar. Louis added a new rule.

"Lestat can choose Armand's song, and Armand, you can choose a song for Lestat."

"But that's no fun, Louis. I can't sing my favourites then."

"But it's fair. Your favourites are precisely that because you can get 100 on them. Armand has never played this game."

"It probably will be funny." Armand smirked. "I can just picture you singing Barbie Girl and hating every minute of it."

"Yeah, well we'll see who's laughing. Does it have my songs on it, Louis?"

"I am not singing that inane Les Innocents song."

"Well remember," Louis added brightly. "The game is for points, so no matter what song you get, if you don't sing it well you'll lose the match."

"Match?" Lestat sent his fledgling a sideways look.

"The game, the game." Louis corrected himself.

The trio set up the game and chose each other's songs.

"Well Armand. Lestat has chosen for you, ah ... cry me a river."

The auburn haired vampire gave a scalding look to Lestat.

"You don't like it Armand? I thought it was quite fitting. What are you going to do? Cry?" Lestat baited Armand in his own childish fashion.

Armand rolled his eyes. "Yes Lestat. You've done such a good job at being the bad guy, the terrifying bully, that I am going to cry. Boo hoo hoo."

"Sarcasm. How very infantile of you." Lestat jibed.

"Anyhow!" Louis clapped his hands. "Lestat, your song that Armand has chosen is ... you're so vain."

"I'm sorry Louis, come again? You haven't told him the name of the song." Armand said with a sly smile.

"Oh ha, ha. Play the damn song." Lestat drawled.

Louis hit the play button and the screen flashed into action. The words at the bottom of the screen corresponded with the bars above them that would indicate if the notes were hit. Lestat often disregarded the bars, boasting that he could hit them with his own natural raw talent. However, Lestat's secret practising in the shower was a heavy factor in this.

The first words scrawled across the screen and Lestat grimaced. He had to sing them regardless.

"You're so vain. You probably think this song is about you. You're so vain."

Armand smiled and began recording the spectacle on his mobile phone. Lestat noticed, and wore a grumpy face for several verses, but then began singing to the camera, as if he were in one of his music videos, putting on a show.

"You probably think this song is about you, don't you, don't you, don't yoooouuuu?"

The song ended and Lestat got his due applause.

"Bravo! Well done Lestat!"

"Not half bad, brat prince. Good job."

Lestat turned around to acknowledge his score. He twirled back to face his live audience on the couch.

"Yes! 91 percent, Armand! Beat that!"

Armand smiled then his expression soured. "Oh, I have to sing that song now, don't I?"

"Yes you do!" Lestat said, smiling wickedly and rubbing his hands together.

"Just do it Armand." Louis advised. "It could be worse."

"Yes," Armand muttered. "I could be singing one of Lestat's tawdry songs."

"I resent that!" Lestat whined.

Louis set up the song for Armand and pressed the start button. Armand's song began, and as he stepped up to hold the microphone, a dazzling innocence overtook his features. He looked younger somehow. Boyish and humble, as he relived an action he hadn't done since his days with Marius, in his short period of immortal bliss. His sad resonating voice added a solemn timbre to the song, as if his sadness at losing such bliss was filtering out through this song. Lestat swallowed. He was good.

The strumming opening led into the first words.

"Now you say you're lonely. You cried the whole night through." There was a feminine quality to his voice. A crooning resonance, projection that echoed through the room.

"Well, you can cry me a river. Cry me a river. I cried a river over you." Lestat felt, somewhere in the back of his head, how much this made him disappointed of his own song. It was a trite piece of seventies pop. How could it compare to this rapturous song that Armand was delivering so well. It seemed he was shaming the song's esteemed singers. Julie London, Patti Austin, why, even that Michael Bublé was put to shame. By that damned adorable vampire.

Lestat suddenly panicked as an errant thought lodged itself in his head. What if Louis prefers Armand after this song is sung. Armand picked up on this emotion in Lestat's head and sent him a mental vignette of how his nightmare would play out.

_"Wow Armand that was an incredible song. You are the real singer in the house."_

_"Why thank you Louis. So that means you share the house with two singers."_

_"No." Louis's face turned grim. "There can be only one."_

_The dream Louis towered over Lestat and pointed to the door. _

_"Get out Lestat. I have chosen my singer."_

_The door slammed on Lestat's way out and he could hear Louis and Armand's voices inside the dream apartment. _

_"Now, sing for me some more, Armand. You have the most wondrous mouth that can do such a thing."_

_"It can do other things too."_

_"Oh, please, do show me."_

The dream noises broke down into muffled murmurs and groans after that. Lestat shot his thought over to Armand.

_Easy! You need a cold shower Armand. Or did I interrupt a fantasy of yours?_

Armand continued singing but responded to Lestat nonetheless.

_It could happen. Does that frighten you?_

_Hardly. Get back to your song, little boy._

"You drove me, nearly drove me right out of my head. While you never shed a tear. Remember, I remember all that you said. Told me love was too plebeian. Told me you were true with me and noooowww-"

Louis murmured to Lestat behind his palm. "He's very good. Such sadness in his voice. You couldn't have picked a better song for him."

Lestat rolled his eyes.

Armand sang the final note in the song, stretched out and mournful. Louis began to clap.

"Marvellous Armand. Has Daniel ever heard you sing? Has Marius? That was truly spectacular."

"Well done, midget." Lestat said, clapping slowly and in a much disgruntled fashion. "You've blown us all away."

Armand looked coyly to the floor. "I'm really not – just forget it. I won't sing like that all the time."

"Why won't you?" Louis asked.

"Yeah Armand. Why won't you sing like a bird for us? It'll be a long time you'll be spending indoors with us. The least you could do is entertain us for a while. I mean, it's not as if you can go out anymore. Missing little person." Lestat laughed to himself again.

"Forget it, ok!" Armand's temper flared up. "That's the last time you'll hear me sing." He attempted to storm past, in his teenage angst filled rage, his singing having just been ridiculed, but Louis and Lestat snagged the back of his shirt.

"You have to see the scores, Armand!" Lestat whinged.

Armand sighed and turned to acknowledge the screen. The drum roll went, and then Armand's score flashed up.

"NINETY TWO PERCENT?! WHAT THE HELL, ARMAND??"

Lestat flipped the coffee table over and stalked out of the room.

"This stupid game is rigged. I'm going to have another shower!"

Louis looked over his shoulder after him, then turned to face the television once more. Armand watched Lestat stalk out and bent over to straighten the coffee table.

"Want another game, Louis?"

**Well my lovely readers. There you have it. The first chapter of silliness in the epic of Armand's humble visit. Any activity suggestions, things you'd like to see them do while they bide their time in Rue Royale would be happily included in this work. And I'll slot a serious conversation amid the sillies, just to give it the resemblance of a real story. To tell you what's going on with the rest of the coven. And please review. Aurevoir!**


	11. Dead Bodies and Russia

Armand was sleeping. He found that there was little else to do in the small apartment in Rue Royale. He couldn't go out. The most he could chance was to wander down to the building's garage and call out his victims to him early of an evening. They would wander down because they wanted to die, and then Lestat would drive them off to be dumped into the harbour. This was a task Lestat undertook with much revulsion and complaints, his aversion to be near dead bodies still as present in this day and age as it was when he was mortal. He would moan about it to Armand for a while, wipe his "dead body germed" hands on Armand and generally cause a fuss, then he'd storm off in a state only to have to dispose of the bodies the next evening.

The hiding was unsavoury for Armand. But it was the only course of action he could take, after the previous, disastrous attempts to avoid Santino had ended so badly. He thought back on their last encounter.

_The cold Russian streets were adrift with snow as Armand stood, his back pressed to the thick brick wall, while his antagonistic pursuer stood so close to him. _

_His pursuer pushed him into the wall in his rage. _

"_Who do you think you're kidding, punk? There is no way you're old enough to enter my night club."_

"_Did you just call me punk?"_

"_Yeah short stack, you got a problem with that? Now because I said move, you move!"_

"_I have shown you my id, now you are obligated to let me in."_

"_I ain't obligated to give you nothin'. _

"_Your lack of appropriate grammar leads me to wonder how you ever added 'owner of a nightclub' to your list of accomplishments. Did you sign the deed with an x?"_

"_That's it. Kid, you're dead. "_

_Armand sighed and rolled his eyes. "Tell me something I don't know."_

_The club owner grabbed Armand by the scruff of his collar and dragged him along to the alleyway behind the club with every intention of 'teaching him a lesson'. Armand allowed himself to be towed to the alley, and gazed apathetically up at the enraged bull of a manager. _

"_Say goodbye to that pretty face of yours." The owner said, oozing his theatrical urges as he raised his fist in anticipation of the punch. He expected to see fear on the face of this stubborn juvenile, but the boy continued to stare up at the owner, his expression cynically incredulous, one eyebrow raised as if to say to the man, "Are you done yet?" He let fly his fist. _

_Instantaneous pain splintered up his arm. He opened his mouth to scream but a slim hand clamped over it. Armand had crushed the man's fist in his palm. _

"_Now," he said. "I don't usually do this so haphazardly, but judging by the way you talk to others, I'd say that you wanted to die."_

_The man's frantic eyes watered with the intense pain. He stared on in disbelief that something so small could be so strong. _

"_Take solace in the fact that this means I won't be drinking in your club." Armand quickly tore the flesh on the burly club owner's throat and gulped down his thick, sweetened blood. The strong taste of the vodka in his system gave a warm tingly feeling to the kill as Armand reeled in the colours. _

_The quiet drinking drew no unwanted attention as Armand watched the last of this man's life drain from his system. He drew back just before the swoop of death closed the book on Krishnov, the club owner's life. The man lay collapsed in the gutter. It seemed that he was sleeping. Sleeping in the cold. Armand knew a thick layer of snow would cover him in a couple of hours and hid the body behind the garbage bins. _

_The swoon had tired Armand, and he wanted just for a moment to languish in it. To roll in the sweetness and bitterness of the kill and let these turbulent emotions overpower him. Armand sank down into the snow; his back against the wall next to the club's frozen garbage bins, and closed his eyes. He sighed, took several deep breaths, luxuriating in this moment of peace and forgetfulness. _

_With his eyes closed, he could feel a tickling across his hand. Fur and whiskers, and a small wet nose. A rat. It scurried across his hand and stopped as it perched itself on Armand's leg. _

_Armand kept his eyes closed. He had no reason for any aversion to rats. They were the things others feared, as Lestat had so eloquently put it in his book. It was probably after the trash, or maybe even after the dead man. Armand didn't care. He did mind that this rat was intruding on his one small moment of peace he'd had all evening. He brandished his hand absentmindedly to shoo the rat away. It stayed exactly where it was, on Armand's knee. _

_Armand turned his head, and then opened his eyes to stare crankily at the rat. _

"_Go away." Armand told it. He grabbed the rat in a sudden movement, holding it tightly without killing it just yet. _

"_My rats are stubborn."_

_Armand looked around to identify the voice he heard so close to him. He knew who must have said it, it was Santino, but where was he? _

_While Armand was looking around the rat bit his hand. With a gasp of pain Armand threw the rat away from him, and it hit the wall with enough force to kill it upon impact. Santino's disembodied laugh echoed through the alley way. _

_Armand couldn't see Santino. He raced out of the alley and barrelled down the street. The snow was whipping up into a storm. Humans rushed to get to their cars, driving to the comfort of their warm homes. They hardly noticed Armand as he ran across the frozen court, looking behind him as his hair flew about his face in the wind. Then, with an uncomfortable crash, Armand barrelled into a tall figure and threw them both onto the floor. _

"_Sorry." Armand said in a distracted fashion, still looking over his shoulder. _

"_It's quite alright," the ringing voice replied. "It's a pleasant change, for you to come to me this time."_

_Armand reared up with disgust from the body below him. Santino smirked up at Armand and twined his arms around the boy vampire's waist. _

"_Leaving so soon? It does terrible things, when you leave people like this."_

_Armand rolled his eyes and tried to stand up, pushing feebly at Santino's circling limbs. _

"_Go away, Santino. Stop following me. I've told you this already. Do you ignore me out of choice?"_

"_Yes, I do." He smiled. "I seem to see more of you that way. You really should stop running like this. It must be dreadful for you not to have a place to go."_

"_I have plenty of places to go. Let go."_

"_Oh really? Like where? You can't go to a lot of places you like now."_

_Armand sighed and again pushed at Santino's arms, stubbornly stuck to Armand's hips. _

"_I don't even like that nightclub. Just because you have your rats standing sentinel, does not mean that I cannot go to that particular establishment should I so choose. I can go to other places. And really, you did me a favour, because I don't like childish places like bowling alleys, or parks, or theme parks."_

_Armand's lower lip jutted out. _

"_But you cannot go to your friends can you?" Santino replied. _

"_I could if I wanted to."_

"_But you do not. I've watched you." Santino said, sitting up slightly so his face drew closer to Armand's. "Your master and fledgling are in Germany, in a very accessible place to you. They've been broadcasting their position to you. And you do not go to them. And you wonder why."_

_Armand frowned. He was closing his mind to Santino. This was all just guesswork. Probably. _

"_They have both gone crazy and it is your fault." Santino smiled. "The fledgling does not talk but mutter derisive remarks to all who address him. Your master still mourns for you, and seeks to revenge himself upon me with the persistence of the mad."_

_Santino's arms tightened about Armand's waist with that remark, crushing Armand to him with an urgency of fear that pained Armand physically. _

"_Let go, you're hurting me."_

"_Ah, but you are hurting me." Santino whispered. Armand looked up to his face, as he had not done before, choosing instead to look anywhere but. Red tears pooled in the corner of his eyes. Santino was silently crying. _

"_Why can you not stay with me, just for these days? For these last days before the last days cease and I am finally received by hell. You are my last request. My only request that I may set right and pass knowing I have lived how I should."_

_Armand pushed once more against Santino's chest. He was lying about Marius and Daniel. They would not be driven mad. Well, maybe Daniel could go mad, Armand had seen him change before in those days he wandered drunk through the streets as a mortal. He was mad then, was he not? But Marius was never mad. He never lost his grip on sanity through all his millennia spent walking throughout the ages. Santino was lying. He always lied. _

"_You lie." Armand said coolly, his deference to Santino's pain infuriated the Italian vampire. "My life with you will not save your damned soul. If you think for one second that I would somehow absolve you of anything, you are wrong. Why should I?"_

"_You owe it to me."_

"_I owe you nothing."_

"_You destroy me now!" Santino cried. "Is it so easy for you to forsake a life? Your master weeps for you every night. His love is now mingled with hate that he would destroy you and me both. He puts up with the presence of your fledgling only to draw you to him so that he might keep you to himself. The moment you return to him he will kill the child, as he kills all the young ones. As you kill all the young ones."_

"_You are wrong. My master has a love that is boundless and a patience to match it. He would never kill Daniel, and he would never be driven mad by such a problem as you."_

_Santino leered at Armand for a moment. "But he would be driven mad by someone else perhaps. You are forgetting how skilful you are at instilling in others a flickering of insanity."_

_Armand's temper flared. He abruptly kneed Santino in the groin and smacked his forehead with his palm. Temporarily freed from the strong grasp of Santino Armand took to the rooftops, running at breakneck speed. As Santino groggily removed his prone form from the icy floor he looked around for his auburn haired paramour. Seeing nothing his mind burst with anger. A corresponding burst of flame was shot randomly out to the Russian street. An air-conditioning unit set aflame. He roared, a terrible sound that Armand could hear although he was already miles away._

"_YOU DRIVE ME MAD, ARMAND. NEXT TIME YOU WON'T ESCAPE SO EASILY. NEXT TIME THERE WILL BE NO RUNNING, EVEN IF I HAVE TO CUT YOUR LEGS OFF. YOU ARE MINE, YOU HEAR ME? MINE!!"_

_Armand took to the sky without looking back. He was in trouble. This was about the time when Armand decided he needed help. He was going to America. Where he was sure a certain someone would let him stay. _

Armand patted his legs and repressed a shudder. Staying with Lestat was definitely worth it considering the alternative. Lestat conveniently walked into the room once Armand had reached this revelation.

"Armaaaaaaannnnnd! I feel all icky now. You disgust me with your draconian eating habits. I mean, honestly, why was she so badly beaten like that? You're horrible, a horrible person."

"She was like that when I found her." Armand murmured.

"Oh." Lestat frowned. "Did you see who did it to her?"

Armand sighed and looked up at Lestat, his expression apathetic. "I didn't see. I didn't know her. I just called out to those who wanted to die. And that's all I know about her, that she was calling me to die. I don't know who hurt her, I don't know how it happened. I don't know if she was loved or if she'll be missed. I don't even know her name."

Lestat was incredulous. "But surely you collected this information when you fed, saw her life and all its woes."

"Just colours my friend. I only see the colours now."

Lestat's mood swings were incorrigible. In this present conversation alone he went from bubbly and effervescent, to murderously vengeful, finally to deplorable woe.

Armand turned a lazy eye to Lestat's saddened figure leaning over the edge of the couch. Lestat's eye had a most alluring glimmer of sadness and regret that Armand had not seen in him for many years. Armand frowned. Lestat was the reason he was still alive, and ambulatory for that matter, right now. He wanted to extinguish that glimmer, and for a moment, he felt incredibly thankful to Lestat for protecting him.

Armand leaned quickly up to Lestat and kissed him on the cheek. Lestat blinked in confusion.

"How now? What was that for?" Lestat stared questioningly into Armand's brown glass eyes.

Armand smiled sweetly, then slapped Lestat on the side of the head.

"You're what? 250 years old and you still can't dispose of a body? This is outrageous, I can't believe you, how childish."

Lestat reared up in an outrage of his own.

"Well excuse me! I didn't realise I was causing you such an inconvenience by doing your dirty work for you Armand. I think I have a right to complain in this instance. And you hit me again. You just hit me! How dare you call me childish?"

"Oh, Oh, we're starting with this again are we? What, I can't call a child a child anymore? I ought to tell Louis, he'd put a stop to this."

Lestat was visibly flustered while Armand continued smirking at his obvious discomfort.

"How- whatcha-nowa- but I was going to tell Louis. You stole my idea! You hit me first."

"Well, you called me a child."

"You are a child."

"I'm not, I'm older than you are!!!"

"LOUIS!" they both called in unison.

In the study in the adjacent room Louis shook his head. He made no move to come patch up their dispute. He could see what was going on. Lestat and Armand's thunderous footfalls thudded down the corridor.

"Louis!" Lestat whinged, he leant in the doorframe of the study and he looked pleasantly mischievous and compelling.

Armand barrelled after him and tried to push past Lestat's tall figure in the doorway. Lestat attempted to block Armand with his body and the ensuing struggle made Louis laugh out loud.

"Louis, don't believe anything he says, it's all is fault."

"You wish midget, you ought to learn a little respect for your elders."

"Yeah, well you ought to grow up sometime in the next century."

"Next century, that's plenty of time; don't rush me Armand, just because you didn't have much of a childhood!"

"Well some of us have to grow up!"

Louis waved his hand dismissingly. "Sure, go back to making out, please, and getting a room might not be such a bad thought either."

Armand and Lestat both paused in their fighting and looked quizzically at the sarcastic vampire, chuckling quietly to himself.

"Louis, what on earth are you snorting about?" Lestat asked indignantly.

"And as if I'd get a room with this buffoon, Louis."

"Aww," Louis smiled. "You really do love one another. You know, children often pick on those who they fancy."

Armand rolled his eyes. Lestat flicked his hair out of his face and stood upright. Armand adjusted his posture too, as previously he was hanging over Lestat's hip to try to break through the door.

"You know what Louis, I think you are either lying, or proving how much you love me." Lestat began smiling enchantingly. "If it's the latter, then you should have said so earlier, Chere." He walked towards his dark haired lover with grand sweeping movements and kissed him on the head.

Armand stood in the doorway watching this display with distant eyes. Louis noticed this and then mentioned to the room. "We should call someone over, don't you think. Get some new company for Armand."

Armand raised his brow. Lestat smiled wickedly. "Like a baby sitter!"

An ornamental clock flew across the room in the next millisecond, and so Louis pulled away as it smashed against Lestat's marble cheek. Looking back at the door, Louis could see that Armand had stormed out. He brushed pieces of clock off his cardigan and pushed away from Lestat who was still spluttering fragments of clock away from his mouth.

"Why did you have to ruin it?" Louis stood up as Lestat fell into the high backed chair.

"Louis!"

"You call someone. Get someone over here, I want to go out."

Lestat frowned in confusion. "Like a date –"

He stopped when he saw Louis hand twitch towards another ornament.

"Alone. Don't follow me." Louis slammed the study door and could be heard slamming doors on his way to the foyer.

Lestat smirked at his fledgling's bout of temper. A marvellous opportunity presented itself here. A chance to go out and leave Armand at home, relieving Lestat of his cabin fever, procuring a minder for Armand.

And if done right, he could kill two birds with one stone and use this as a chance to get back at Armand for the blue paint incident, whilst making up to someone he owed a debt to for grievances he issued in the past.

Lestat reached for the phone, and the echo of self satisfaction pouring fourth from Lestat washed over the apartment. In his room, the sulking Armand felt this emotion and shivered.

Lestat dialled...

**Well sorry for the delay! Start of school and such puts pressures onto my writing habits, but I hope I have successfully delivered a decent chapter for you all. They fight because they love each other, and of course a fight would draw Lestat from his melancholy mood swing. Thank you for your kind review, Lady MoonChan, and we'll get to work on that writing exercise, which we could both post onto this site soon-ish. To Swetlana, this chapter precedes your good ideas which will be implemented in the next, let's see if you can guess where this is going, or who is visiting next chapter. To all the secretive, non reviewing readers, I can promise you a chapter next post full of twists, turns and belly laughs. Love Felice! x**


	12. The Babysitter arrives

Armand went to rest earlier than usual that night and slept all through the hours til dawn and beyond to dusk the next day. When he awoke, there was a strange civility to the apartment. The usual raucous noises of the shower, or the television, or the blender (Armand's addition to the apartment), or the vocal chords of the brat prince were extinguished for this pleasant evening.

Instead, the only sound that carried through to Armand's curtained room was the subtle scratch of pen on paper. The miniscule sound carried through Armand's sensitive hearing and woke him up. He sleepily wandered through the apartment, running a hand through his ruffled hair as he did so.

Armand pushed the study door to and saw, nestled amongst the books, the papers and the many old parchment's Lestat and Louis had collected through their years, David Talbot, copying them down into his moleskin notebook.

"So." Armand said, leaning his forehead on the door frame.

"So." David replied, tenting his fingers and looking up over the manuscripts at the fluffy looking Armand. His curly hair fell in odd angles over his face. The long silk shirt he fell asleep in had creases along it, as did the flannel trousers Armand wore the other night. His face was pristine and white, softer perhaps for all the luxury of the beds and pillows Lestat provided for him. Armand stared at David dismissive, perhaps of his presence in the apartment.

He walked into the study, ignoring Talbot, took a book from the shelf, and walked out without a word.

David smiled. He opened the newer of the notebooks he brought with him and noted down Armand's reactions to his arrival with a self satisfied nod.

He walked lithely out the study door and followed Armand into the lounge room. Armand was already curled up on the leather armchair, flicking through the pages of Machiavelli's _The Prince_ with a lazy sort of concentration.

"I would think you'd have read that before, Armand." David spoke to him, initiating conversation.

He was ignored. Armand continued turning the pages, and so David took up his note book and scribbled into it. Armand gave a furtive curious glance at the note book then looked back to his book. David noted this as well.

Armand's dedicated attempt to ignore David through the book resulted in him finishing it earlier than he had planned. He held the last page between his fingers, unsatisfied with how quickly it ended. He should have picked a larger book. He knew that next to _The Prince_ on the shelf was Dostoevsky's _War and Peace_, a large and far more time consuming book that bored Armand beyond his capacity.

"Talk to me?" David asked again.

Armand looked at David, his disposition disgruntled and venomous.

"I can't get into your head." David said, puzzled.

"Yes, well it's become somewhat of a necessity, to block everyone out now, hasn't it?" Armand replied, bitingly.

"Will you tell me about it?" David crooked his head and crossed his legs, sitting on the footstool opposite Armand's high backed chair.

"Why should I, you seem to find out these things well enough on your own." Armand glared at Talbot.

"You are referring to the book?"

"Maybe. Perhaps you've taken to browsing through my thoughts as a new hobby; it could be more than that one time."

"I wrote what you said, everything in that book truthfully happened to you."

"Yes, but I didn't say it all, did I? You just went in there, searching for the juicy bits."

Talbot raised his brow questioningly. He wore a slight smirk about his mouth. Armand felt ashamed of his temper. This momentary lapse did not reflect well on him. It seemed the old man always knew how to get him riled, how to irritate him into admitting things he shouldn't.

"I didn't lie." David leaned closer to Armand's chair. He had little room now to avoid the British gent.

"They were my memories, they belonged to me."

"You didn't want to tell them to Sybelle and Benji."

"They didn't need to know."

"You were ashamed?"

Armand flushed bright red. "No."

"What then?"

He noted Talbot's pen flying across the page of his little notebook, almost as though it were acting separately from the rest of his arm. Armand leaned forward, trying to read what it said.

"What are you writing?"

"Nothing. What were you ashamed of?"

David leaned forward, into Armand's path to block him reading the notebook. This move was quite unexpected, as Armand assumed the older gent would defer his path to Armand's more obstinate behaviour. Talbot was acting rather forward in this respect. Their faces were practically touching.

"Don't think you can push me around, David Talbot." Armand's voice was dripping with arrogance and disbelief.

"I haven't pushed you yet." David replied with a wolfish smile. That wolfish smile reminded him of the smile of another, the smile of one who was older than he, in many ways. Armand's sarcastic smirk slipped a little from his face.

"Marius?" Talbot whispered with an indulgent smile. He was now smiling at Armand with that smug look many adults used against him, whenever they thought they knew what he was thinking. Whenever they thought they had him figured out, as if that was so easy.

Armand tried to get up from the chair and walk away from the conversation. To his surprise, David let him leave the room. Armand walked into the study again and picked up another book. A longer one. When he turned around David was there again. He had followed him.

"Don't you have something to do? Somewhere to be?"

David smirked at Armand again, his eyes raking over Armand's casually defiant pose.

"If I heard about Marius, you aren't blocking your thoughts as effectively as you would think you are doing so. Someone could find where you are."

Armand's scowl twisted his youthful face. He shot a look of annoyance at the caramel skinned scholar standing in the doorway and David chuckled. He hated the way Talbot assumed his anger wasn't serious, how he underestimated him again because of his size.

"I think you're forgetting how I ripped most of your face off the last time you made it your own ungodly crusade to try to make me tick. So you should let me alone, Talbot. You think you're so indestructible because Lestat gave blood to you, but if you like I can prove that it doesn't make you so."

"Deteriorating to threats already!" David raised his eyebrows. He seemed to be doing that a lot. It made Armand smile, just briefly. "You have been inside for too long, Armand. You need to get out more." David smiled lopsidedly as if to push his point that he made his jest in good humour.

Armand threw the book he held at Talbot's head with uncanny force and accuracy. He grinned as David caught it and smiled back at him. They bickered like schoolchildren; it seemed to be part of their unusual friendship.

"Why, Louis would kill you if he found you threw one of his books."

"It's Lestat's book. He wouldn't care."

"Then Lestat would kill you."

"He expects it of me. He comes home pretty much every evening and just frowns at the bookcase. He says I don't put it back right."

Talbot looked towards the ruffled disarray on one side of the shelf, and the meticulous tidiness on the opposite.

"These," he paused; his expression was one of horror. "These are all first editions! These are priceless. Do you think he'd let me borrow some?"

"I've lost count of the multitude of items of ours that have wound up in your hideous vaults, Talbot. Do you think I'd willingly surrender more of them?"

"They aren't even yours!"

"Well, they're not yours either. I'm a guest here, so I can make that decision. You're just a visitor."

Armand grinned wickedly. The relationship between himself and the young-old man was very childish, if you were frank about it. They spent most of their time insulting one another, fighting one another, and after much of that making a move on one another. (That was generally more David's cup of tea, as Armand found himself more often than not pushing away the amorous advances when it got too far.)

"More of a babysitter than a visitor; that means I have authority here."

"AHA!" Armand exclaimed and pointed at Talbot. "He did send you as a baby sitter, I knew it! Oh, I am going to break every one of his CD's, I'm going to smash his shiny television plasma. I'll put every last one of his wretched discs into the blender."

"I hope then, Armand that you intend to eat or drink the evidence afterwards –and kindly sweep up the mess?"

"No, never. I'll leave it there, for him to weep over. I hate his stupid music." Armand rushed out into the lounge room again and began pulling CD's from the shelves beside the television. David lazily followed him.

"Oh, poor little Armand. You know, not everyone has the privilege of having a song written about them. Let alone a song that reached platinum on the charts." David drawled.

"Jealous, Talbot?" Armand turned around to face him, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Of a platinum record? Definitely. I used to be quite the singer, you know."

"Urgh, please don't start." Armand rolled his eyes. Ever the teenager.

"Let me just – hrmmm- clear my throat – hrmmm!" The auburn haired boy across the room recoiled in horror and covered his ears with his slender hands.

"Please, Lestat's bad enough, you know he was wailing those hideous lyrics in the shower the other day."

"When my baby, when my baby smiles at me I go to Rio! De Janeiro!"

David Talbot stopped singing then, as Armand flung his tiny body at the singing vampire and clamped a hand over his mouth. The CD's he pulled from the shelves clattered to the ground.

"Don't. Sing. Just don't."

"Fine," Talbot's response was muffled by Armand's muting hand. "But you have to talk to me. Really talk to me."

Armand frowned and moved to draw his hand away. Talbot reached up and snatched it, held it still close to his face, maintaining the contact between Armand's hand and his cheek.

"Talbot," Armand began warily. "This isn't a chance for you to get what you want. I won't be with you just to shut you up."

"But I thought that would work with you."

"No," Armand gave a little laugh, and tried tugging his hand away. "No, I know that you aren't who I want."

"Who do you want then? Will you tell me? Talk to me."

Armand then tried a different tact. He saw how David's eyes were lingering on his face, how all this "Non-talking" was making him more of a challenge than talking to him would be. It was the same when he wrote the book. Talbot's advances were halted in their tracks once Armand started talking, as the Englishman's insatiable desire to record every syllable of vampiric knowledge into his tiny notepads outweighed his other desires. Put a pen in his hand and he was happy, Armand thought to himself with a satisfied smirk.

"Alright," he replied. "Let's talk then."

Armand walked over to his favourite lounge chair. The one with the curved red upholstery and the embroidered mauve pillows. Lestat's extravagant taste in lounge furnishings wasn't always a bad thing. Talbot watched him recline on the couch, as casually as he would if Talbot hadn't been there. Talbot smiled bitterly. Armand's confidence in his actions, his remarkable ease with his own movements was enviable. Talbot knew some of this confidence came with the many centuries Armand had over him, but as Talbot was new not only to this life, but also this body, he felt the clumsiness of his own movements deplorable. He sank onto the lounge opposite, trying to make his movements as elegant as he was able.

"What do you think about your recent situation? Will you tell me what happened?" Talbot's hand itched for his pen.

"Well, Lestat let me stay with him, and I have that little room at the end of the corridor to sleep in. It is very comfortable and I have no problems with it. Things can get rather boring staying here most of the time, so I have been reading a lot. Sleeping a lot too, but I think that's only fair. I haven't yet had the proper sleep, the deep sleep that others have known the pleasure of. Lestat's had more of that luxury than I have. So there's no need to give me that sort of look, thank you very much."

"What look?"

"That interfering look you have, when you get all superior and decide to do what's best for a person. I've seen you do it before."

"When?"

"Just – before. Like when Lestat wanted to go buy Louis a fire truck for his birthday, and you interfered and told him no."

"Louis hates fire trucks though, he says they ruin everything."

"Yes, but can you see where Lestat would have thought that it would have been a good idea for a present for him?"

"Yes, but-"

"You just don't understand the whole master-fledgling relationship. There are certain rules, limitations to the amount of control you have over their decisions."

"But how can Louis control Lestat's urges to buy things?"

"That wasn't Louis controlling it then, that was you. You forget your place, and that is below Lestat on the authority ladder."

A sly smile crept across Talbot's face. "So..."

Armand blanched. Talbot was sneaky.

"Why is it that you seek to impart on me a correct sense of master-fledgling responsibility?"

"W-well, um –"

"Do you want to tell me how it should be done then, Armand?"

"What's that supposed to mean, Talbot? Are you insinuating something?"

"Are you?"

Armand sighed. Talbot was a sneaky adversary, and though Armand could probably run rings around him if he were so inclined, he really was worried, being shut in the house all this time, and if he had to spill his worries onto someone, Talbot was the only one he could shamelessly pour his heart out to without feeling like he owed him anything from it.

"I didn't drive Danny mad, did I? Santino says I did."

"You didn't drive Daniel mad. He was just too naive about what this life he was taking on involved. He didn't comprehend that the price for his immortality was one of blood and alienation. You didn't drive him any madder than he would have turned with the eventuality of the world."

Armand curled his legs up to his chest and sank lower into the couch.

"Don't listen to Santino. Who is he to talk about madness? You know, Maharet tells me that Santino was acting very strangely before he went to the manor."

Armand looked up curiously over the embroidered pillow he had buried his face in. Talbot knew something about Santino's odd behaviour? And how had he got Marharet's confidence? The sly Talamascan.

"Oh, really?" Armand attempted to be as casual as possible, he tilted his chin just up over the pillow. Talbot's quick eyes flashed over him and Armand quickly looked away.

"It's fine, I don't need to know. You wouldn't tell me anyway, though you seem to have no trouble divulging everyone else's secrets."

Talbot laughed, a short rich laugh and moved over to Armand's high backed chair. He plonked down on the chair next to him and ruffled his hair.

"Hey!" Armand shook his head at Talbot.

"Well, you have to concede me certain liberties if I'm to tell you his story, and this is one of those liberties, Armand."

"Touching my hair?"

"I have wanted to for some time you know. It's looking gorgeous and fluffy, your little curls all swept carelessly about your face. It makes me think of how you sleep, all tangled in your sheets."

"You're teasing me again. You won't really tell me what happened; you'll just mess around and then wander off when you've had your fill of my company."

Talbot scowled. He tugged a lock of Armand's hair in his hand. "I'm going to tell you, be patient with me. Now, I have to get in the story telling mood."

"Story telling?" Armand drawled. He rolled his eyes at Talbot, but Talbot merely nodded and gestured for Armand to cuddle up to him.

"You're serious?"

"My liberties, if you will."

Armand pinched Talbot as he leered at him. He then leaned into the older gent's chest and allowed him to gently stroke his hair over in his hands.

"You'd better not be lying to me."

"Why would I lie Armand? What's the time?"

Armand frowned, and then looked over his shoulder to the tiny analogue clock in the study.

"It's only eight thirty."

"Well then, we have until three thirty AM until Lestat and Louis get back from watching the nutcracker on ice."

"Why is that being performed in June?"

"Lestat wanted to see it, so he called the troupe together for a performance. They all think some rich mad man just wants to see something whimsical on a random compulsion."

"They were half right, mad stupid idiot."

"Shall I begin the tale?"

Armand closed his eyes slightly as Talbot's stroking fingers pulled through his hair. It was relaxing and felt very sweet against his scalp. It reminded him of nicer things, far nicer things than cruel Italian monks, or crazed consort's of mysterious red headed beings, or Lestat's reaction when he sees his CD's snapped and littered onto the floor in silvery shards. Yes, it was very relaxing.

"How does it begin then?" Armand asked. He could swear he heard a smile in Talbot's voice when he answered.

"Well," He said. "It begins at the end of November last year, on a rather tepid night in the rainforests of Indonesia. This is where Santino first discovered that he was going to hell."

…

… …

… … .. **DUN DUN DUUUUN!**

**I am a cliff hanger loving tease. Not really. Think of this as how Anne Rice uses chapters with "The Story of Marius" and "The Story of Armand" after the introductory bit with Lestat usually. So, thankyou to my new reviewer. I don't know what the other 155 of you who traffic through my story are doing, may you come to your reviewing senses immediately. Yes, I gave Lestat a shiny new distraction for this chapter. Oh the nutcracker is in town? No it isn't but does that stop the man? If anyone wants to see anything in particular in the next few chapters after Talbot's storytelling, because I plan to include some light hearted bits, then drop me a review. I will do my best to include it. **

**Felice **


	13. Oh!

**Sorry it's been such a long while. My other projects got me in a tangle of temptations. You should read my other stories, by the way. Not meaning to brag much, but they're pretty good. Anyhoots, read, review. You know, the usual. And if you'd like to add anything to the story, just drop me a line. **

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"Well," He said. "It begins at the end of November last year, on a rather tepid night in the rainforests of Indonesia. This is where Santino first discovered that he was going to hell."

Talbot paused for effect, still stroking Armand's hair like a villain in a spy film. Armand blinked for a moment, then turned around in his fleshy seat.

"I'm sorry, am I hearing you right? This is your story? He's manic now because he realised he's going to hell?" Armand pulled away from Talbot and frowned in his direction disparagingly.

"Talbot, the man's believed he was going to hell since he was first born some hundreds of years ago. He grew up dirt poor with the knowledge that it was the good life in comparison. No, you can't convince me that this is your awe inspiring story." He made to get up and pull away from the British storyteller, but Talbot's burgundy arms encircled around his waist, pulling him back down.

"Armand, you are the most impatient audience member, now if you'd only stay still and listen you'd hear that there is much more to it than some morbid revelation. Allow me my storytelling to go as I tell it."

"Right, right. With tension and cliff-hangers and all." Armand rolled his eyes. Talbot allowed himself an indulgent smile.

"Discovering that you are going to hell is different from having the belief your whole life." Talbot reproached.

"So you're saying that he did have some morbid revelation then?"

"Not at all. He made a conscious decision amid his meditation in the rainforest. He was becoming quite introspective in this modern era, you know."

"I don't see what the era has to do with it."

"It depends on what level you immerse yourself in it." Talbot replied with a smirk.

"I'm immersed in this era! I don't think it has had either positive or negative impacts on my introspection."

"Oh, I don't know," David said, examining his shining nails. "You've had your fair share of revelations in the past few decades alone."

"I'm going to cut you off there, before you become appallingly obnoxious. Get on with your story. I am losing my patience."

"Alright, alright. While Santino was accompanying Maharet to a lost temple in the rainforests of Indonesia, he became quieter than usual after visiting a central holy room in the enclosure. The temple they were visiting, after the dramatic dissolution of the old queen and her regime, Maharet and Mekare have been travelling together, with their entourage, when there are no official sentencing's to be heard, to remove or preserve in _their_ vaults any evidence that the sister's left of their story."

Armand smiled up at David through the cradle of his arms. It was just like David to be peevish about the evidence of the story being removed to someone else's vaults.

"Following Mekare's communications, they headed to the Sumatra forests to visit a temple from Mekare's memory. This temple has it's foundations in the local mysticism of the area, and the lore has it that the temple is unplottable, that it only accepts into its domain those who are courted by death. Certainly, the lore is impressive, but for those like us it only serves to aid us if we were to seek it. Strangely enough, Santino was the first one to enter the temple grounds, but that holds little real significance as Maharet, her sister and Mael were only a few paces behind. The temple had many carvings all relating to eschatology in various forms and patterns, so in order to locate the carving made by the twins, the group split, in search of clues." Talbot waggled his brows, inciting a laugh from Armand.

Mojo, paced across the living room at this particular moment, went over to the couch that Armand was on and received a pat before pacing back out of the room.

"Mmm, perhaps we should have brought Mojo, the friendly German Sheppard with us. To sniff out the answers." David mused.

"These are jokes about the cartoon dog, right?" Armand ascertained.

David smiled in response. "That and other things."

Armand frowned a little in confusion, but nodded, letting David know he should continue his story.

"Now, the carvings of the twins were found in the northern most tower of the temple, but Santino, in his searching, found the central holy room and got wrapped up in the patterns and engravings on the walls there. Maharet tells me that when Mael found him later, he was curled up on the temple floor weeping to himself about dying. Now Mael, ever sensible as always, shook him out of his stupor – literally – and told him to stop moaning and get a move on, as Maharet had already found the pictures, removed them and that they were going back to the city to hunt. "

"That's odd. I don't think I've ever seen Santino cry." Armand commented thoughtfully.

"Yes, and what's more unusual is that he went back to the city with Mael, and then refused the hunt with them. He insisted on staying at the hotel room, to think things through, as it were."

Armand rolled his eyes. "Did he actually say 'think things through' or is that something you've added to the story? Because he usually means something very different when he says he is going to 'think things through', so he may not be such a martyr after all."

David pursed his lips and surveyed Armand with a curious distaste.

"Armand?"

"Yes."

David paused.

"Is there anyone you've not slept with?"

Armand laughed and elbowed David in the stomach.

"Ha ha, _**you**_! And that doesn't mean such debaucherous things, get your mind out of the gutter, you insatiable British letch! No, his version of 'thinking things through' involves a lot of shouting to the ceiling, and in the end he'll most likely cut himself. Not very inventive, that Santino." Armand wryly replied.

"Yes, well you seem rather flippant about it now, Armand, but if I recall correctly, it was not two weeks ago that you begged Lestat to keep him away from you, was it not?" Talbot raised his brow, deliberately provoking Armand.

"That's it. I won't stick around just so you can insult me Talbot." Armand made to get up again. "Your story's rubbish anyway. It hasn't told me anything I didn't already know."

"Is that so?" David sat up, now alone on the couch as Armand withdrew to the cupboards along the wall in the side of the room.

"Yes." Armand stiffly replied. "That is so." He shuffled to wedge the broken DVD's back onto the shelf, stoutly ignoring David.

"So you already knew about the rainforest bit?" David called out, a twinge of theatrical disappointment in his voice.

"Yes." Armand lied swiftly.

"And you knew about the temple room?" David clarified again.

"Of course."

"Hmmm." David pretended to be stumped by Armand's stubborn attempts to lie to him.

"So I'd just be wasting time telling you what Maharet said he told her he saw in the room, then?"

Armand's back stiffened. A slow smile crept across David's face. He closed his eyes and shrugged.

"Ahh well. It can't be helped. I'd better get back to those books in the study then. Such wonderful first additions." David pivoted on his heel, turning towards the study. He opened his eyes a slit and saw, standing in front of him a furiously blushing Armand.

"Fine then. Talk." Armand avoided looking him in the eye.

"Oh, what's this?" David's sarcasm was as thick as his arrogance. "But surely my rubbish story can't possibly be of interest to you Armand."

Armand closed his eyes for a moment, clearly fighting with his temper.

"I apologize. David. Just – continue the story, please?" every word came out forced through gritted teeth. This was giving Talbot far too much pleasure. He was practically purring with superiority.

"Oh." David mock yawned. "I don't know. I'm pretty tired. I don't know if I can *yawn* make the effort tonight. But, oh well."

He turned to go away when once again, in the blink of an eye, Talbot found himself pressed up against the lounge room wall, Armand's slender hands wrapped around his throat.

"This isn't some oh so hilarious joke of yours, Talbot. This is my life. It certainly is not material for you to play with. In case this important fact has slipped your mind, I am in hiding from that lunatic because of what he has planned for me, based on whatever revelation he had in that temple chamber. So unless it is your goal to try me, and correspondingly try re-growing your face from the neck up, I suggest you stop playing with me." Armand growled this all into Talbot's ear, as he stood on tip toes to whisper it to him whilst maintaining his threatening demeanour.

Talbot should have realised what a precarious situation he was in at that point, but he was too busy riding the high of his little victory.

"Big words for a very small person, ha HA!" Talbot laughed giddily.

When he woke up, Louis was straightening the frames on the wall Armand had slammed David into, and Lestat was tracing the bruising on David's forehead with a trickle of his own blood.

"Oh, look who's waking up." Lestat giggled. "David the Sugar Plum Fairy, who once again got beat by a teenaged brat!"

Louis tutted at Lestat in a chiding fashion.

"Don't be so facetious, Lestat. Do you think that's helping David right now?"

David groaned.

"What's left of me from the neck up?" He groggily asked.

Lestat was confused. "Umm, well you from the neck up is what's left of you from the neck up. Oh no, wait. See this line on your neck? Ah, I see. Armand chopped your head off." Lestat stood up and clapped his hands as if the matter was solved. Louis looked horrified.

"He chopped his head off! That's – "Louis spluttered, lost for words when confronting the brutal revenge of the auburn haired vampire.

A light ringing voice sounded from across the room. The voice gave David chills.

"He's awake now? Oh good." The short red haired vampire strode quickly across the room and knelt down next to David's body opposite Lestat. Louis flailed his arms pathetically, as if he was too flustered to even make a decision if he should stop Armand.

David paled as the small vampire crouched down beside him. Armand smiled sweetly.

"So David. Are you ready to talk?"

"What's he talking about?" Lestat asked cheerily. David groaned from his place on the floor. If Lestat took no interest in stopping Armand he knew he had no chance evading this discussion.

"He was about to divulge some vital information as to why Santino's such a psycho all of a sudden."

"All of a sudden." Lestat laughed grimly.

"Well David?" Armand poked his neck with a fascinated expression. "You seem to be all in one piece now. So do tell." His wide brown eyes stared expectantly at the British scholar. David flinched in his gaze, reliving some no doubt traumatic memory of the head cutting incident and his previous altercations with Armand. If he just told him now, Armand would most likely not hurt him, but David did not want to cut short their time together.

"I can assure you Talbot, that any time spent with me will not be enjoyable for you if you continue to defy me." Armand warned him, picking up on Talbot's strain of thought. Lestat recognised a spark of the old coven master he used to know in Armand.

"Ah," Talbot blurted out. "Maharet said he had visions in the holy room of all the bad things he had done covering him in black ink, and she gathered that he saw himself as not completely covered and he wanted to be pure again, apparently. That's what she told me. And he was mumbling most of it for quite a bit, so that's about as much as I got from it. Don't poke my neck again."

Armand leant back, still crouching on the floor and withdrew his finger from the vicinity of Talbot's neck. He felt like poking Talbot again, but he knew the scholar wasn't lying.

"Pure?" Armand pondered. He stared vacantly, something far away, Lestat reckoned, because after Lestat turned to check what was in Armand's line of sight (the brass handle of the record cabinet) he concluded that the boy was lost in thought.

Lestat held his hand out for David and helped him off the floor, brushing his bloodied suit jacket off; Lestat looked disparagingly to his fledgling's ruined outfit.

"You need to hunt. Borrow one of my suits; I'll throw that one away." He frowned again at the ruddied cuffs of Talbot's usually pristine suit jacket. Talbot took this as his dismissal and hurried away to Lestat's cavernous wardrobe, before Armand took dispute with another thought of his.

"But – Not the red suit! That's mine, you can't wear that one!" Lestat called after him.

"I didn't know you had a red suit." Louis said faintly. He seemed rather startled after the David debacle. Lestat slipped over to him and slipped his arms around Louis' waist.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, Chere. I'm very mysterious." He smiled in a seductive manner. Louis blinked and then realised Lestat had clamped onto his waist, and so began to push him off.

"Pure?" Armand repeated, still on the floor, sitting remarkably still. "That doesn't make sense then. What does he want with me?"

"God knows how anyone would link you with 'pure' Armand." Lestat commented dryly.

David quickly slipped out of Lestat's wardrobe and tip toed to the apartment door, dressed in a blue cashmere cardigan, a white polo shirt and a pair of black bootleg jeans. He reached for the handle of the door.

"David." Armand called out to him. David froze.

"Yes." He croaked, his sore throat damaging his voice. He remained still by the door, knowing better than to leave when Armand was talking to him.

"Did Maharet tell you anything else? Anything at all?"

"No." David replied. "All that she told me, I have told you."

"Ah." Armand sighed. He stood up, finally and walked along the apartment corridor leading to the room Lestat had provided for him. He stopped at the middle of the corridor and turned back to the assembled vampires.

"Oh, I think I'm going to sleep for a bit now. Oh, and David." He added as an afterthought. "I'm sorry for cutting your head off, goodnight then."

He closed the door behind him as he disappeared into the luxurious silken room Lestat had given him. The group in the lounge room stared at the door for a moment.

"Well that was entertaining." Lestat laughed.

At the door David rolled his eyes. "I'm going to hunt. I'll see you next week Lestat, Louis." With a nod, David left the apartment, closing the decorously lavish door behind him.

The lounge room was quiet and empty as the two remaining vampires stood still, startled by the quiet. Lestat moved first, pulling Louis by the hand to their room on the other side of the lounge room. He was humming the nutcracker theme as he went. Louis looked curiously at him.

"What?" he asked.

Lestat smiled at him, and continued humming.

"What?" Louis asked him again.

"We, for all intents and purposes Louis, are all alone." Lestat smiled again, his blue eyes twinkling.

Louis blushed. "Oh."

Lestat continued to lead him to the bedroom. The brat prince pulled his fledgling in for a heated kiss at the door of their room. Louis moaned softly into Lestat's eager mouth. Lestat drew back from the kiss and put his hand to the door handle, his back still to the door and his fledgling pressed to his chest. Lestat turned the handle.

"Oh." Louis repeated. Lestat's piercing gaze melted his resistance. Lestat opened the door and the two vampires fell back through it, Lestat pulling Louis along with him. They landed on the bed together, and Lestat used the telekinetic pull of his mind to close the door behind them. It shut with a click.

"Oh!" Louis voice could be heard from outside the door as a muffled array of noises filtered through the door.

"Oh!"

"Yes Louis?"

"… Oh!"

Lestat hummed the nutcracker tune once more, now accompanied with Louis' frequent exclamations of "Oh!" In his silken chamber Armand covered his ears with an embroidered pillow.

"Oh!!" Louis cried out again.

"Oh, shut up." Armand mumbled as he rolled over in his cushions and tried to fall asleep. Roommates, he thought derisively. He closed his russet eyes and focused on the dark. Slowly, the warm embrace of Morpheus enticed him into slumber.

…

…

"Oh!"

**So there's the long overdue chapter. I hope it was enjoyable. As enjoyable as Louis' "Oh"s! Read and Review folks, and peruse my other works that are sadly bereft of feedback. Ta!**

**Felice xx**


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